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SELECTIONS 



FROM 



/ 

WASHINGTON IRVING 



SELECTED AND ARRANGED 



ISAAC THOMAS, A.M. (Yale), 

Principal of Hillhouse High School, 
New Haven, Conn. 



The best preparation to the study of an author is to read what he 

has written. 




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\ v 






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PEEFAOE. 



Beading with my classes this year " The Alhambra," 
and selections from the " Sketch Book/' it seemed to me 
that Irving was well worth a much wider reading in the 
schools than he now has. That he is not more widely 
read is due, no doubt, to many reasons which need not 
here be discussed ; but certainly one of them is the lack 
of an available book representative of his best work. To 
make such selections from his works as would (1) form 
an interesting book for school work, and (2) represent 
him at his best in every direction, was therefore the first 
task set. At the same time, I believed that such a book 
would lead both teacher and pupil to a more general 
reading of Irving. 

I am well aware that in some quarters Irving is con- 
sidered antiquated, though I have never been able to see 
upon what ground. Then, too, he is called " genial," as 
if it were a small thing to be able to give pure pleasure 
and enjoyment. If, as he himself says, he can, "'by any 
lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle 
from the brow of care, or prompt a benevolent view of 
human nature, and make his reader more in a good humor 
with his fellow-beings and himself," I for one cannot see 
why it should be counted against him. 

iii 



iv PREFA CE. 

But this is no place for an argument to show why 
Irving is worthy to be read, and read a great deal too. I 
shall content myself, therefore, by referring the reader 
to some things that have been said by others. One Eng- 
lish writer, Thackeray, and two American writers, Charles 
Dudley Warner and Donald G. Mitchell, have said what 
any one may read with great profit. " Nil nisi bonum " in 
the Roundabout Papers ; "Washington Irving," "Ameri- 
can Men of Letters," especially the last chapter ; Preface 
of 1863 to " Dream Life ; " and " Washington Irving " in 
" Bound Together," give what any author might be happy 
to have said of him. I cannot forbear to quote briefly from 
these authors. " Did he ever say an unkind thing of you, 
or me, or any one ? Can you cull me a sneer, that has hate 
in it, anywhere in his books ? Can you tell me of a thrust 
of either words or silence which has malignity in it ? " 
" Here are two x examples of men most differently gifted : 
each pursuing his calling; each speaking his truth as 
God bade him ; each honest in his life ; just and irre- 
proachable in his dealings ; dear to his friends ; honored 
by his country; beloved at his fireside. It has been the 
fortunate lot of both to give incalculable happiness and 
delight to the world, which thanks them in return with 
an immense kindliness, respect, and affection." 

"The author loved good women, and little children, 
and a pure life ; he had faith in his fellow-men, a kindly 
sympathy with the lowest, without any subservience to 
the highest; he retained a belief in the possibility of 
chivalrous actions, and did not care to envelop them in a 

1 Macaulay and Irving. 



PREFACE. V 

cynical suspicion ; lie was an author still capable of an 
enthusiasm. His books are wholesome, full of sweetness 
and charm, of humor without any sting, of amusement 
without any stain; and their more solid qualities are 
marred by neither pedantry nor pretension." 

Happily the fashion of Manuals of Literature is pass- 
ing away, and we are learning to become acquainted with 
authors rather than to know about them. So that the 
need of urging teachers to read much is also passing 
away. ~ Yet the press of much work, and the weariness 
of exacting duties, often make outside reading almost a 
martyrdom. Notwithstanding this, I say, without hesi- 
tation, that nothing takes away the drudgery of teaching, 
puts life into the teacher, and awakens interest in the 
pupil, so well as a large acquaintance with authors on 
the part of the instructor. This outside reading should 
be not simply on the authors taught, and adjacent to 
them ; but should, in addition, follow some definite 
course apparently remote, perhaps, from any actual 
daily work. 

I am confident that much of the weakness in our Eng- 
lish teaching ; much of the lack of freshness, and of that 
indispensable sharpness of mind ; much of the dreary 
treadmill round when one is teaching the same authors, 
and perhaps the same works, over and over again, are due 
to our disposition to be too . easily satisfied with our 
acquirements. 

Another fashion, too, is passing away ; that fashion 
which denies to teacher and pupil one of the greatest 
pleasures of study and recitation, making of one a help- 



vi PREFACE. 

less questioner, and securing from the other a self-satis- 
fied and listless answer, — the fashion of copious notes. 

Only a few notes, therefore, will be found in this book. 
If I have erred, I hope the error has been on the side of 
too few rather than too many notes. I have left even 
the choice of books of reference, dictionaries, etc., to the 
teacher. 

In two selections, " The Palace of the Alhambra," and 
"The Character of Goldsmith," I have fitted together 
parts to suit the purpose I had in mind. I hope they 
will not have too much the appearance of patchwork. 

The text of these selections is from the author's re- 
vised edition, published only by GL P. Putnam's Sons, by 
whose kind permission the papers in this book are used ; 
and all the references in the notes are to that edition. 

While this book has been prepared for the Student's 
Series of English Classics, it is believed that it will be 
found particularly well suited for use in the grammar 
schools, where the reading must of necessity be of a 
more general character than in the high school. 

In the course of my work Prof. H. A. Beers of Yale 
University gave me many valuable suggestions which I 
here most gratefully acknowledge. 

I. T. 
New Haven, May, 1894. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

1. Capture of New Amsterdam by the English . 1 

Knickerbocker's History of New York, 1809. 

2. Eip Tan Winkle 37 

Sketch Book, 1818. 

3. Christmas Sketches — 

Sketch Book, 1818. 

1. Christmas 63 

2. The Stage-Coach 71 

3. Christmas Eve 80 

4. Christmas Day 96 

5. The Christmas Dinner 115 

4. Stratford-on-Avon 135 

Sketch Book, 1818. 

5. The Stout Gentleman 161 

Bracebridge Hall, 1822. 

6. Dolph Heyliger — 

Bracebridge Hall, 1822. 

1. The Historian 175 

2. The Haunted House . . . . - 178 

3. Dolph Heyliger 183 

4. The Storm-ship 233 

vii 



viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

7. Columbus's Discovery of Land, 1492 269 

Life of Columbus, 1828. 

8. Surrender of Granada 281 

Conquest of Granada, 1829. 

9. Palace of the Alhambra 294 

-The Alhambra, 1832. 

10. Legend of the Two Discreet Statues .... 324 

The Alhambra, 1832. 

11. Oliver Goldsmith 347 

Goldsmith, 1849. 

12. Washington at Princeton 358 

Life of Washington, 1855-9. 



SELECTIONS 

FBOM 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE CAPTUEE OF NEW AMSTEEDAM BY 
THE ENGLISH. 

Great nations resemble great men in this particular, 
that their greatness is seldom known until they get in 
trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denomi- 
nated the ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can 
never receive its real estimation until it has passed 
through the furnace. In proportion, therefore, as a 
nation, a community, or an individual (possessing the in- 
herent quality of greatness) is involved in perils and mis- 
fortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur, and even 
when sinking under calamity makes, like a house on 
fire, a more glorious display than ever it did in the 
fairest period of its prosperity. 

The vast empire of China, though teeming with pop- 
ulation and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of 
nations, has vegetated through a succession of drowsy 
ages ; and were it not for its internal revolutions, and 
the subversion of its ancient government by the Tartars, 

1 



2 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

might have presented nothing but a dull detail of mo- 
notonous prosperity. Pompeii and Herculaneum might 
have passed into oblivion, with a herd of their contem- 
poraries, had they not been fortunately overwhelmed by 
a volcano. The renowned city of Troy acquired celebrity 
only from its ten years' distress, and final conflagration ; 
Paris rose in importance by the plots and massacres 
which ended in the exaltation of Napoleon; and even the 
mighty London had skulked through the records of time, 
celebrated for nothing of moment excepting the plague, 
the great fire, and Guy Faux's gunpowder plot ! Thus 
cities and empires creep along, enlarging in silent ob- 
scurity, until they burst forth in some tremendous ca- 
lamity — and snatch, as it were, immortality from the 
explosion ! 

The above principle being admitted, my reader will 
plainly perceive that the city of New Amsterdam and its 
dependent province are on the high-road to greatness. 
Dangers and hostilities threaten from every side, and it 
is really a matter of astonishment how so small a state 
has been able, in so short a time, to entangle itself in so 
many difficulties. Ever since the province was first 
taken by the nose, at the Fort of Goed Hoop, in the 
tranquil days of Wouter Van Twiller, has it been gradu- 
ally increasing in historic importance; and never could 
it have had a more appropriate chieftain to conduct it to 
the pinnacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyvesant. 

This truly headstrong hero having successfully effected 
his daring progress through the east country, girded up 
his loins as he approached Boston, and prepared for the 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 3 

grand onslaught with the Amphictyons, which was to be 
the crowning achievement of the campaign. Throwing 
Antony Yan Corlear, who, with his calico mare, formed 
his escort and army, a little in the advance, and bidding 
him to be of stout heart and great wind, he placed him- 
self firmly in his saddle, cocked his hat more fiercely 
over his left eye, summoned all the heroism of his soul 
into his countenance, and, with one arm akimbo, the 
hand resting on the pommel of his sword, rode into 
the great metropolis of the league, Antony sounding his 
trumpet before him in a manner to electrify the whole 
community. 

Never was there such a stir in Boston as on this occa- 
sion ; never such a hurrying hither and thither about the 
streets ; such popping of heads out of windows ; such 
gathering of knots in market-places. Peter Stuyvesant 
was a straightforward man, and prone to do everything 
above board. He would have ridden at once to the great 
council-house of the league and sounded a parley ; but 
the grand council knew the mettlesome hero they had to 
deal with, and were not for doing things in a hurry. On 
the contrary, they sent forth deputations to meet him on 
the way, to receive him in a style befitting the great 
potentate of the Manhattoes, and to multiply all kind of 
honors and ceremonies and formalities and other cour- 
teous impediments in his path. Solemn banquets were 
accordingly given him, equal to thanksgiving feasts. 
Complimentary speeches were made him, wherein he was 
entertained with the surpassing virtues, long-sufferings, 
and achievements of the Pilgrim Fathers ; and it is even 



4 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

said lie was treated to a sight of Plymouth Rock, — that 
great corner-stone of Yankee empire. 

I will not detain my readers by recounting the endless 
devices by which time was wasted, and obstacles and 
delays multiplied to the infinite annoyance of the impa- 
tient Peter. Neither will I fatigue them by dwelling on 
his negotiations with the grand council, when he at length 
brought them to business. Suffice it to say, it was like 
most other diplomatic negotiations : a great deal was said 
and very little done ; one conversation led to another, 
one conference begot misunderstandings which it took a 
dozen conferences to explain, at the end of which both 
parties found themselves just where they had begun, but 
ten times less likely to come to an agreement. 

In the midst of these perplexities which bewildered 
the brain and incensed the ire of honest Peter, he re- 
ceived private intelligence of the dark conspiracy matured 
in the British cabinet, with the astounding fact that a 
British squadron was already on the way to invade New 
Amsterdam by sea, and that the grand council of Amphic- 
tyons, while thus beguiling him with subtleties, were 
actually prepared to co-operate by land ! 

Oh ! how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, 
when he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the 
hunter's toil ! Now did he draw his trusty sword, and 
determine to break in upon the council of the Amphic- 
tyons and put every mother's son of them to death. 
Now did he resolve to fight his way throughout all the 
region of the east and to lay waste Connecticut River ! 

Gallant, but unfortunate Peter ! Did I not enter with 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 5 

sacl forebodings on this ill-starred expedition? Did I 
not tremble when I saw thee, with no other counsellor 
than thine own head; no other armor but an honest 
tongue, a spotless conscience, and a rusty sword; no 
other protector but St. Nicholas, and no other attendant 
but a trumpeter ; did I not tremble when I beheld thee 
thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing powers 
of New England ? 

It was a long time before the kind-hearted expostula- 
tions of Antony Van Corlear, aided by the soothing mel- 
ody of his trumpet, could lower the spirits of Peter 
Stuyvesant from their warlike and vindictive tones, and 
prevent his making widows and orphans of half the pop- 
ulation of Boston. With great difficulty he was pre- 
vailed upon to bottle up his wrath for the present, to 
conceal from the council his knowledge of their machi- 
nations, and by effecting his escape, to be able to arrive 
in time for the salvation of the Manhattoes. 

The latter suggestion awakened a new ray of hope in 
his bosom ; he forthwith despatched a secret message to 
his councillors at New Amsterdam, apprising them of 
their danger, and commanding them to put the city in a 
posture of defence, promising to come as soon as possi- 
ble to their assistance. This done, he felt marvellously 
relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, 
and issued forth from his den, in much the same manner 
as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubt- 
ing Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's 
Progress. 

And now much does it grieve me that I must leave the 



6 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

gallant Peter in his imminent jeopardy; but it behooves 
us to hurry back and see what is going on at New Am- 
sterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is already in a 
turmoil. Such was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant ; 
while doing one thing with heart and soul, he was too 
apt to leave everything else at sixes and sevens. While, 
like a potentate of yore, he was. absent attending to those 
things in person which in modern days are trusted to 
generals and ambassadors, his little territory at home 
was sure to get in an uproar — all which was owing to 
that uncommon strength of intellect, which induced him 
to trust to nobody but himself, and which had acquired 
him the renowned appellation of Peter the Headstrong. 

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philoso- 
pher than a community where every individual has a 
voice in public affairs, where every individual considers 
himself the Atlas of the nation, and where every indi- 
vidual thinks it his duty to bestir himself for the good 
of his country : I say, there is nothing more interesting 
to a philosopher than such a community in a sudden 
bustle of war. Such clamor of tongues — such patriotic 
bawling — such running hither and thither — everybody 
in a hurry — everybody in trouble — everybody in the 
way, and everybody interrupting his neighbor — who is 
busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witnessing 
a great fire, where the whole community are agog — some 
dragging about empty engines — others scampering with 
full buckets, and spilling the contents into their neigh- 
bor's boots — and others ringing the church bells all 
night, by way of putting out the fire. Little firemen, 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 7 

like sturdy little knights storming a breach, clambering 
up and down scaling-ladders, and bawling through tin 
trumpets, by way of directing the attack. Here a fel- 
low, in his great zeal to save the property of the unfor- 
tunate, catches up an anonymous chamber-utensil, and 
gallants it off with an air of as much self-importance as 
if he had rescued a pot of money ; there another throws 
looking-glasses and china out of the window, to save 
them from the flames ; whilst those who can do nothing 
else run up and down the streets, keeping up an inces- 
sant cry of Fire! Fire! Fire! 

" When the news arrived at Sinope," says Lucian, — 
though I own the story is rather trite, — "that Philip 
was about to attack them, the inhabitants were thrown 
into a violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms ; 
others rolled stones to build up the walls — everybody, 
in short, was employed, and everybody in the way of his 
neighbor. Diogenes alone could find nothing to do 
whereupon, not to be idle when the welfare of his 
country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, and fell to 
rolling his tub with might and main up and down the 
Gymnasium." In like manner did every mother's son in 
the patriotic community of New Amsterdam, on receiv- 
ing the missive of Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself most 
mightily in putting things in confusion, and assisting the 
general uproar. "Every man" — saith the Stuyvesant 
manuscript — "flew to arms!" — by which is meant, that 
not one of our honest Dutch citizens would venture to 
church or to market without an old-fasioned spit of a 
sword dangling at his side, and a long Dutch fowling- 



8 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

piece on his shoulder; nor would he go out of a night 
without a lantern 5 nor turn a corner without first peep- 
ing cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon 
a British army; — and we are informed that Stoffel 
Brinkerhoff, who was considered by the old women 
almost as brave a man as the governor himself, actually 
had two one-pound swivels mounted in his entry, one 
pointing out at the front door, and the other at the back. 
But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this 
awful occasion, and one which has since been found of 
wonderful efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. 
These brawling convocations, I have already shown, 
were extremely offensive to Peter Stuyvesant; but as 
this was a moment of unusual agitation, and as the old 
governor was not present to repress them, they broke 
out with intolerable violence. Hither, therefore, the 
orators and politicians repaired, striving who should 
bawl loudest, and exceed the others in hyperbolical 
bursts of patriotism, and in resolutions to uphold and 
defend the government. In these sage meetings it was 
resolved that they were the most enlightened, the most 
dignified, the most formidable, and the most ancient 
community upon the face of the earth. This resolution 
being carried unanimously, another was immediately 
proposed, — whether it were not possible and politic to 
exterminate Great Britain? upon which sixty-nine 
members spoke in the affirmative, and only one arose to 
suggest some doubts, — who, as a punishment for his 
treasonable presumption, was immediately seized by the 
mob, and tarred and feathered,-— which punishment be- 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 9 

ing equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he was afterwards 
considered as an outcast from society, and his opinion 
went for nothing. The question, therefore, being unani- 
mously carried in the affirmative, it was recommended 
to the grand council to pass it into a law ; which was 
accordingly done. By this measure the hearts of the 
people at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they 
waxed exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the 
first paroxysm of alarm having in some measure sub- 
sided, — the old women having buried all the money 
they could lay their hands on, and their husbands daily 
getting fuddled with what was left, — the community 
began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were 
manufactured in Low Dutch and sung about the streets, 
wherein the English were most wofully beaten, and 
shown no quarter; and popular addresses were made, 
wherein it was proved, to a certainty, that the fate of 
Old England depended upon the will of the New Am- 
sterdammers. 

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of 
Great Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants 
assembled, and having purchased all the British manu- 
factures they could find, they made thereof a huge bon- 
fire; and, in the patriotic glow of the moment, every 
man present, who had a hat or breeches of English 
workmanship, pulled it off and threw it into the flames, 
— to the irreparable detriment, loss, and ruin of the 
English manufacturers. In commemoration of this great 
exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a device 
on the top intended to represent the province of Meuw 



10 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Nederlands destroying Great Britain, under the simili- 
tude of an Eagle picking the little Island of Old England 
out of the globe ; but, either through the unskilfulness of 
the sculptor, or his ill-timed waggery, it bore a striking 
resemblance to a goose, vainly striving to get hold of a 
dumpling. 

It will need but little penetration in any one conver- 
sant with the ways of that wise but windy potentate, 
the sovereign people, to discover that, notwithstand- 
ing all the warlike bluster and bustle, the city of New 
Amsterdam was not a whit more prepared for war than 
before. The privy councillors of Peter Stuyvesant 
were aware of this ; and, having received his private 
orders to put the city in an immediate posture of de- 
fence, they called a meeting of the oldest and richest 
burghers to assist them with their wisdom. These were 
that order of citizens commonly termed "men of the 
greatest weight in the community ; " their weight being 
estimated by the heaviness of their heads and of their 
purses. Their wisdom, in fact, is apt to be of a ponderous 
kind, and to hang like a mill-stone round the neck of the 
community. 

Two things were unanimously determined in this as- 
sembly of venerables : First, that the city required to be 
put in a state of defence ; and, second, that, as the dan- 
ger was imminent, there should be no time lost, which 
points being settled, they fell to making long speeches 
and belaboring one another in endless and intemperate 
disputes. For about this time was this unhappy city 
first visited by that talking endemic so prevalent in this 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 11 

country, and which so invariably evinces itself wherever 
a number of wise men assemble together, breaking out in 
long, windy speeches, caused, as physicians suppose, by 
the foul air which is ever generated in a crowd. Now it 
was, moreover, that they first introduced the ingenious 
method of measuring the merits of an harangue by the 
hour-glass, he being considered the ablest orator who 
spoke longest on a question. For which excellent inven- 
tion, it is recorded, we are indebted to the same profound 
Dutch critic who judged of books by their size. 

This sudden passion for endless harangues, so little 
consonant with the customary gravity and taciturnity of 
our sage forefathers, was supposed by certain philoso- 
phers to have been imbibed, together with divers other 
barbarous propensities, from their savage neighbors ; who 
were peculiarly noted for long talks and council-fires, and 
never undertook any affair of the least importance with- 
out previous debates and harangues among their chiefs 
and old men. But the real cause was, that the people, in 
electing their representatives to the grand council, were 
particular in choosing thein for their talents at talking, 
without inquiring whether they possessed the more rare, 
difficult, and oftentimes important talent of holding their 
tongues. The consequence was, that this deliberate body 
was composed of the most loquacious men in the commu- 
nity. As they considered themselves placed there to 
talk, every man concluded that his duty to his constitu- 
ents, and, what is more, his popularity with them, re- 
quired that he should harangue on every subject, whether 
he understood it or not. There was an ancient mode of 



12 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

burying a chieftain, by every soldier throwing his shield 
full of earth on the corpse, until a mighty mound was 
formed ; so, whenever a question was brought forward in 
this assembly, every member pressing forward to throw on 
his quantum of wisdom, the subject was quickly buried 
under a mountain of words. 

We are told that disciples, on entering the school of 
Pythagoras, were for two years enjoined silence, and for- 
bidden either to ask questions, or make remarks. After 
they had thus acquired the inestimable art of hold- 
ing their tongues, they were gradually permitted to 
make inquiries, and finally to communicate their own 
opinions. 

With what a beneficial effect could this wise regulation 
of Pythagoras be introduced in modern legislative bodies, 
— and how wonderfully it would have tended to expedite 
business in the grand council of the Manhattoes ! 

At this perilous juncture the fatal word economy, the 
stumbling-block of William the Testy, had been once more 
set afloat, according to which the cheapest plan of defence 
was insisted upon as the best ; it being deemed a great 
stroke of policy in furnishing powder to economize in 
ball. 

Thus did dame Wisdom (whom the wags of antiquity 
have humorously personified as a woman) seem to take a 
mischievous pleasure in jilting the venerable councillors 
of New Amsterdam. To add to the confusion, the old 
factions of Short Pipes and Long Pipes, which had been 
almost strangled by the Herculean grasp of Peter Stuy- 
vesant, now sprang up with tenfold vigor. Whatever 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. IB 

was proposed by Short Pipe was opposed by the whole 
tribe of Long Pipes, who, like true partisans, deemed it 
their first duty to effect the downfall of their rivals, 
their second, to elevate themselves, and their third, to 
consult the public good ; though many left the third con- 
sideration out of question altogether. 

In this great collision of hard heads it is astonishing 
the number of projects that were struck out, — projects 
which threw the windmill system of William the Testy 
completely in the background. These were almost uni- 
formly opposed by the "men of the greatest weight in 
the community ! " your weighty men, though slow to 
devise, being always great at " negativing." Among 
these were a set of fat, self-important old burghers, who 
smoked their pipes, and said nothing except to negative 
every plan of defence proposed. These were that class 
of "conservatives" who, having amassed a fortune, but- 
ton up their pockets, shut their mouths, sink, as it were, 
into themselves, and pass the rest of their lives in the 
indwelling beatitude of conscious wealth ; as some phleg- 
matic oyster, having swallowed a pearl, closes its shell, 
sinks in the mud, and devotes the rest of its life to 
the conservation of its treasure. Every plan of defence 
seemed to these worthy old gentlemen pregnant with 
ruin. An armed force was a legion of locusts preying 
upon the public property; to fit out a naval armament 
was to throw their money into the sea ; to build fortifi- 
cations was to bury it in the dirt. In short, they settled 
it as a sovereign maxim, so long as their pockets were 
full, no matter how much they were drubbed. A kick 



i4 SELECTIONS PROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

left no scar ; a broken head cured itself ; but an empty 
purse was, of all maladies, the slowest to heal, and one 
in which nature did nothing for the patient. 

Thus did this venerable assembly of sages lavish away 
that time which the urgency of affairs rendered invalu- 
able, in empty brawls and long-winded speeches, without 
ever agreeing, except on the point with which they 
started; namely, that there was no time to be lost, and 
delay was ruinous. At length, St. Nicholas taking com- 
passion on their distracted situation, and anxious to 
preserve them from anarchy, so ordered, that in the 
midst of one of their most noisy debates, on the subject 
of fortification and defence, when they had nearly fallen 
to loggerheads in consequence of not being able to con- 
vince each other, the question was happily settled by 
the sudden entrance of a messenger, who informed them 
that a hostile fleet had arrived, and was actually advan- 
cing up the bay ! 

Like as an assemblage of belligerent cats, gibbering 
and caterwauling, eying one another with hideous grim- 
aces and contortions, spitting in each other's faces, and 
on the point of a general clapper-clawing, are suddenly 
put to scampering rout and confusion by the appearance 
of a house-dog, so was the no less vociferous council of 
New Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and totally dis- 
persed, by the sudden arrival of the enemy. Every 
member waddled home as fast as his short legs could 
carry him, wheezing as he went with corpulency and 
terror. Arrived at his castle, he barricadoed the street- 
door, and buried himself in the cider-cellar, without ven- 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 15 

turing to peep out, lest he should have his head carried 
off by a cannon-ball. 

The sovereign people crowded into the market-place, 
herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek 
safety in each other's company when the shepherd and 
his dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the 
fold. Far from finding relief, however, they only in- 
creased each other's terrors. Each man looked ruefully 
in his neighbor's face, in search of encouragement, but 
only found in its woe-begone lineaments a confirmation 
of his own dismay. Not a word now was to be heard of 
conquering Great Britain, not a whisper about the sover- 
eign virtues of economy, — while the old women height- 
ened the general gloom by clamorously bewailing their 
fate, and calling for protection on St. Nicholas and Peter 
Stuyvesant. 

Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion- 
hearted Peter ! and how did they long for the comfort- 
ing presence of Antony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy 
uncertainty hung over the fate of these adventurous 
heroes. Day after day had elapsed since the alarming 
message from the governor, without bringing any further 
tidings of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was 
hazarded as to what had befallen him and his loyal 
squire. Had they not been devoured alive by the canni- 
bals of Marblehead and Cape Cod ? — had they not been 
put to the question by the great council of Amphictyons ? 
— had they not been smothered in onions by the terrible 
men of Pyquag ? In the midst of this consternation and 
perplexity, when horror, like a mighty nightmare, sat 



16 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New Am- 
sterdam, the ears of the multitude were suddenly startled 
by the distant sound of a trumpet : it approached, it 
grew louder and louder, and now it resounded at the city 
gate. The public could not be mistaken in the well- 
known sound ; a shout of joy burst from their lips, as 
the gallant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by 
his faithful trumpeter, came galloping into the market- 
place. 

The first transports of the populace having subsided, 
they gathered round the honest Antony, as he dismounted, 
overwhelming him with greetings and congratulations. 
In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous 
adventures through which the old governor and himself 
had gone, in making their escape from the clutches of 
the terrible Amphictyons. But though the Stuyvesant 
manuscript, with its customary minuteness where any- 
thing touching the great Peter is concerned, is very par- 
ticular as to the incidents of this masterly retreat, the 
state of the public affairs will not allow me to indulge in 
a full recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while 
Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his mind 
how he could make good his escape with honor and dig- 
nity, certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of 
the Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports to obtain 
supplies, and to call on the grand council of the league 
for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the 
vigilant Peter, perceiving that a moment's delay were 
fatal, made a secret and precipitate decampment ; though 
much did it grieve his lofty soul to be obliged to turn his 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 17 

back even upon a nation of foes. Many hairbreadth 
'scapes and divers perilous mishaps did they sustain, as 
they scoured, without sound of trumpet, through the fair 
regions of the east. Already was the country in an up- 
roar with hostile preparations, and they were obliged to 
take a large circuit in their flight, lurking along through 
the woody mountains of the Devil's backbone ; whence 
the valiant Peter sallied forth one day like a lion, and 
put to rout a whole legion of squatters, consisting of 
three generations of a prolific family, who were already 
on their way to take possession of some corner of the 
New Netherlands. - Nay, the faithful Antony had great 
difficulty, at sundry times, to prevent him, in the excess 
of his wrath, from descending down from the mountains, 
and falling, sword in hand, upon certain of the border- 
towns, who were marshalling forth their draggle-tailed 
militia. 

The first movement of the governor, on reaching his 
dwelling, was to mount the roof, whence he contemplated 
with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This had al- 
ready come to anchor in the bay, and consisted of two 
stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent., 
informs us, "three hundred valiant redcoats." Having 
taken this survey, he sat himself down and wrote an 
epistle to the commander, demanding the reason of his 
anchoring in the harbor without obtaining previous per- 
mission so to do. This letter was couched in the most 
dignified and courteous terms, though I have it from un- 
doubted authority that his teeth were clinched, and he 
had a bitter, sardonic grin upon his visage all the while 



18 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim Peter 
stumped to and fro about the town with a most war- 
betokening countenance, his hands thrust into his 
breeches pockets, and whistling a Low-Dutch psalm 
tune, which bore no small resemblance to the music of 
a north-east wind, when a storm is brewing. The very 
dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away in dismay ; while 
all the old and ugly women of New Amsterdam ran 
howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from 
murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! 

The reply of Colonel Nicholas, who commanded the 
invaders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with 
the letter of the governor ; declaring the right and title 
of his British Majesty to the province, where he affirmed 
the Dutch to be mere interlopers ; and demanding that 
the town, forts, etc., should be forthwith rendered into 
his Majesty's obedience and protection; promising, at 
the same time, life, liberty, estate, and free trade to 
every Dutch denizen who should readily submit to his 
Majesty's government. 

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with 
some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a 
crusty farmer reads the loving letter of John Stiles, 
warning him of an action of ejectment. He was not, 
however, to be taken by surprise ; but, thrusting the 
summons into his breeches pocket, stalked three times 
across the room, took a pinch of snuff with great vehe- 
mence, and then, loftily waving his hand, promised to 
send an answer the next morning. He now summoned a 
general meeting of his privy councillors and burgomas- 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 19 

ters, not to ask their advice, for, confident in his own 
strong head, he needed no man's counsel, but apparently 
to give them a piece of his mind on their late craven 
conduct. 

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous 
sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had 
demolished the whole British empire in their harangues, 
peeping ruefully out of their hiding-places ; crawling 
cautiously forth; dodging through narrow lanes and 
alleys ; starting at every little dog that barked ; mis- 
taking lamp-posts for British grenadiers; and, in the 
excess of their panic, metamorphosing pumps into for- 
midable soldiers levelling blunderbusses at their bosoms ! 
Having, however, in despite of numerous perils and dif- 
ficulties of the kind, arrived safe, without the loss of a 
single man, at the hall of assembly, they took their seats, 
and awaited in fearful silence the arrival of the governor. 
In a few moments the wooden leg of the intrepid Peter 
was heard in regular and stout-hearted thumps upon the 
staircase. He entered the chamber, arrayed in full suit 
of regimentals, and carrying his trusty toledo, not girded 
on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. As the governor 
never equipped himself in this portentous manner unless 
something of martial nature were working within his 
pericranium, his council regarded him ruefully, as if 
they saw fire and sword in his iron countenance, and 
forgot to light their pipes in breathless suspense. 

His first words were to rate his council soundly for 
having wasted in idle debate and party feud the time 
which should have been devoted to putting the city in a 



20 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

state of defence. He was particularly indignant at those 
brawlers who had disgraced the councils of the province 
by empty bickerings and scurrilous invectives against an 
absent enemy. He now called upon them to make good 
their words by deeds, as the enemy they had defied and 
derided was at the gate. Finally, he informed them of 
the summons he had received to surrender, but concluded 
by swearing to defend the province as long as Heaven 
was on his side and he had a wooden leg to stand upon ; 
which warlike sentence he emphasized by a thwack with 
the flat of his sword upon the table, that quite electrified 
his auditors. 

The privy councillors, who had long since been brought 
into as perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the 
great Frederick, knew there was no use in saying a word, 
— so lighted their pipes, and smoked away in silence, 
like fat and discreet councillors. But the burgomasters, 
being inflated with considerable importance and self- 
sufficiency, acquired at popular meetings, were not so 
easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spirit, when they 
found there was some chance of escaping from their pres- 
ent jeopardy without the disagreeable alternative of fight- 
ing, they requested a copy of the summons to surrender, 
that they might show it to a general meeting of the people. 

So insolent and mutinous a request would have been 
enough to have roused the gorge of the tranquil Van 
Twiller himself, — what then must have been its effect 
upon the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutch- 
man, a governor, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier to 
boot, but withal a man of the most stomachful and gun- 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 21 

powder disposition ? He burst forth into a blaze of 
indignation, — swore not a mother's son of them should 
see a syllable of it, — that as to their advice or occur- 
rence, he did not care a whiff of tobacco for either, — 
that they might go home, and go to bed like old women ; 
for he was determined to defend the colony himself, 
without the assistance of them or their adherents ! So 
saying, he tucked his sword under his arm, cocked his 
hat upon his head, and, girding up his loins, stumped 
indignantly out of the council-chamber, everybody mak- 
ing room for him as he passed. 

No sooner was he gone than the busy burgomasters 
called a public meeting in front of the Stadthouse, where 
they appointed as chairman one Dofue Koerback, for- 
merly a meddlesome member of the cabinet during the 
reign of William the Testy, but kicked out of office by 
Peter Stuyvesant on taking the reins of government. 
He was, withal, a mighty gingerbread baker in the land, 
and reverenced by the populace as a man of dark knowl- 
edge, seeing that he was the first to imprint New- Year 
cakes with the mysterious hieroglyphics of the Cock and 
Breeches, and such like magical devices. 

This burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill-will 
against Peter Stuyvesant, addressed the multitude in 
what is called a patriotic speech, informing them of the 
courteous summons which the governor had received, to 
surrender, of his refusal to comply therewith, and of his 
denying the public even a sight of the summons, which 
doubtless contained conditions highly to the honor and 
advantage of the province. 



22 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

He then proceeded to speak of his Excellency in high- 
sounding terms of vituperation, suited to the dignity of 
his station ; comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and other 
flagrant great men of yore ; assuring the people that the 
history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage 
equal to the present. That it would be recorded in 
letters of fire, on the blood-stained tablet of history ! 
That ages would roll back with sudden horror when they 
came to view it ! That the womb of time (by the way, 
your orators and writers take strange liberties with the 
womb of time, though some would fain have us believe 
that time is an old gentleman) — that the womb of time, 
pregnant as it was with direful horrors, would never 
produce a parallel enormity ! — with a variety of other 
heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which I 
cannot enumerate ; neither, indeed, need I, for they were 
of the kind which even to the present day form the style 
of popular harangues and patriotic orations, and may be 
classed in rhetoric under the general title of Kigmarole. 

The result of this speech of the inspired burgomaster 
was a memorial address to the governor, remonstrating 
in good round terms on his conduct. It was proposed 
that Dofue Eoerback himself should be the bearer of 
this memorial ; but this he warily declined, having no 
inclination of coming again within kicking distance of 
his Excellency. Who did deliver it has never been 
named in history, in which neglect he has suffered 
grievous wrong ; seeing that he was equally worthy of 
blazon with him perpetuated in Scottish song and story 
by the surname of Bell-the-cat. All we know of the fate 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 23 

of this memorial is, that it was used by the grim Peter 
to light his pipe ; which, from the vehemence with which 
he smoked it, was evidently anything but a pipe of 
peace. 

Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower 
down a pannier-load of maledictions upon his burgo- 
masters for a set of self-willed, obstinate, factious varlets, 
who would neither be convinced nor persuaded. Nor 
did he omit to bestow some left-handed compliments 
upon the sovereign people, as a herd of poltroons, who 
had no relish for the glorious hardships and illustrious 
misadventures of battle, but would rather stay at home, 
and eat and sleep in ignoble ease, than fight in a ditch 
for immortality and a broken head. 

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved 
city, in despite even of itself, he called unto him his 
trusty Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all 
times of emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war- 
denouncing trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up 
the country night and day, — sounding the alarm along 
the pastoral borders of the Bronx, — startling the wild 
solitudes of Croton, — arousing the rugged yeomanry of 
Weehawk and Hoboken, — the mighty men of battle of 
Tappan Bay, — and the brave boys of Tarry-Town, Pet- 
ticoat-Lane, and Sleepy-Hollow, — charging them one 
and all to sling their powder-horns, shoulder their fowl- 
ing-pieces, and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. 

Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine 
sex excepted, that Antony Van Corlear loved better than 
errands of this kind. So just stopping to take a lusty 



24 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

dinner, and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well 
charged with heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily 
from the city gate, which looked out upon what is at 
present called Broadway, sounding a farewell strain, that 
rung in sprightly echoes through the winding streets of 
New Amsterdam. Alas ! never more were they to be 
gladdened by the melody of their favorite trumpeter ! 

It was a dark and stormy night when the good Antony 
arrived at the creek (sagely denominated Haerlem river) 
which separates the island of Manna-hata from the 
mainland. The wind was high, the elements were in an 
uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the 
adventurous sounder of brass across the water. For a 
short time he vapored like an impatient ghost upon the 
brink, and then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his 
errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore 
most valorously that he would swim across in spite of 
the devil ! ( Spyt den Duy vel ! ) and daringly plunged 
into the stream. Luckless Antony ! Scarce had he 
buffeted half-way over when he was observed to struggle 
violently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters, — 
instinctively he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving 
a vehement blast — sank forever to the bottom ! 

The clangor of his trumpet, like that of the ivory horn 
of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the 
glorious field of Eoncesvalles, rang far and wide through 
the country, alarming the neighbors round, who hurried 
in amazement to the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, 
famed for his veracity, and who had been a witness of 
the fact, related to them the melancholy affair ; with the 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 25 

fearful addition (to which I am slow in giving belief) 
that he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss- 
bonker, seize the sturdy Antony by the leg, and drag 
him beneath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with 
the adjoining promontory, which projects into the Hud- 
son, has been called Spyt den Duyvel ever since ; the 
ghost of the unfortunate Antony still haunts the sur- 
rounding solitudes, and his trumpet has often been heard 
by the neighbors, of a stormy night, mingling with the 
howling of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim 
across the creek after dark ; on the contrary, a bridge 
has been built to guard against such melancholy acci- 
dents in future ; and as to the moss-bonkers, they are 
held in such abhorrence, that no true Dutchman will 
admit them to his table, who loves good fish and hates 
the devil. 

As some way-worn pilgrim, when the tempest whistles 
through his locks, and night is gathering round, beholds 
his faithful dog, the companion and solace of his jour- 
neying, stretched lifeless at his feet, so did the generous- 
hearted hero of the Manhattoes contemplate the untimely 
end of Antony Van Corlear. He had been the faithful 
attendant of his footsteps ; he had charmed him in many 
a weary hour by his honest gayety and the martial 
melody of his trumpet, and had followed him with un- 
flinching loyalty and affection through many a scene of 
direful peril and mishap. He was gone forever ! and 
that, too, at a moment when every mongrel cur was 
skulking from his side. This — Peter Stuyvesant — 
was the moment to try thy fortitude ; and this was the 



26 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

moment when thou didst indeed shine forth Peter the 
Headstrong ! 

The glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of the 
stormy night ; still all was dull and gloomy. The late 
jovial Apollo hid his face behind lugubrious clouds, 
peeping out now and then for an instant, as if anxious, 
yet fearful, to see what was going on in his favorite city. 
This was the eventful morning when the great Peter 
was to give his reply to the summons of the invaders. 
Already was he closeted with his privy council, sitting 
in grim state, brooding over the fate of his favorite 
trumpeter, and anon boiling with indignation as the in- 
solence of his recreant burgomasters flashed upon his 
mind. — While in this state of irritation, a courier 
arrived in all haste from Winthrop, the subtle governor 
of Connecticut, counselling him, in a most affectionate 
and disinterested manner, to surrender the province, and 
magnifying the dangers and calamities to which a refusal 
would subject him. — What a moment was this to intrude 
officious advice upon a man who never took advice in his 
whole life ! — The fiery old governor, strode up and down 
the chamber with a vehemence that made the bosom 
of his councillors to quake with awe, — railing at his 
unlucky fate, that thus made him the constant butt of 
factious subjects and Jesuitical advisers. 

Just at this ill-chosen juncture, the officious burgo- 
masters, who had heard of the arrival of mysterious 
despatches, came marching in a body into the room, 
with a legion of schepens and toad-eaters at their heels, 
and abruptly demanded a perusal of the letter. This 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 27 

was too much for the spleen of Peter Stuyvesant. He 
tore the letter in a thousand pieces, — threw it in the 
face of the nearest burgomaster, — broke his pipe over 
the head of the next, — hurled his spitting-box at an 
unlucky schepen, who was just retreating out at the 
door, and finally prorogued the whole meeting sine die, 
by kicking them down-stairs with his wooden leg. 

As soon as the burgomasters could recover from their 
confusion, and had time to breathe, they called a public 
meeting, where they related at full length, and with 
appropriate coloring and exaggeration, the despotic and 
vindictive deportment of the governor; declaring that, 
for their own parts, they did not value a straw the being 
kicked, cuffed, and mauled by the timber toe of his 
Excellency, but that they felt for the dignity of the 
sovereign people, thus rudely insulted by the outrage 
committed on the seat of honor of their representatives. 
The latter part of the harangue came home at once to 
that delicacy of feeling and jealous pride of character 
vested in all true mobs, — who, though they may bear 
injuries without a murmur, yet are marvellously jealous 
of their sovereign dignity ; and there is no knowing to 
what act of resentment they might have been provoked, 
had they not been somewhat more afraid of their sturdy 
old governor than they were of St. Nicholas, the English 
— or the d 1 himself. 

There is something exceedingly sublime and melan- 
choly in the spectacle which the present crisis of our 
history presents. An illustrious and venerable little 
city, — the metropolis of a vast extent of uninhabited 



28 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

country, — garrisoned by a doughty host of orators, 
chairmen, committeemen, burgomasters, schepens, and 
old women, — governed by a determined and strong- 
headed warrior, and fortified by mud batteries, pali- 
sadoes, and resolutions, — blockaded by sea, beleaguered 
by land, and threatened with direful desolation from 
without, while its very vitals are torn with internal 
faction and commotion ! Never did historic pen record 
a page of more complicated distress, unless it be the 
strife that distracted the Israelites, during the siege of 
Jerusalem, — where discordant parties were cutting each 
other's throats, at the moment when the victorious 
legions of Titus had toppled down their bulwarks, and 
were carrying fire and sword into the very sanctum 
sanctorum of the temple. 

Governor Stuyvesant, having triumphantly put his 
grand council to the rout, and delivered himself from a 
multitude of impertinent advisers, despatched a categor- 
ical reply to the commanders of the invading squadron ; 
wherein he asserted the right and title of their High 
Mightinesses the Lords States General to the province of 
New Netherlands, and, trusting in the righteousness of 
his cause, set the whole British nation at defiance ! 

My anxiety to extricate my readers and myself from 
these disastrous scenes prevents me from giving the 
whole of this gallant letter, which concluded in these 
manly and affectionate terms : — 

" As touching the threats in your conclusion, we have 
nothing to answer, only that we fear nothing but what 



THE CAPTURE OP NEW AMSTERDAM. 29 

God (who is as just as merciful) shall lay upon us ; all 
things being in his gracious disposal, and we may as 
well be preserved by him with small forces as by a great 
army ; which makes us to wish you all happiness and 
prosperity, and recommend you to his protection. My 
lords, your thrice humble and affectionate servant and 
friend, P. Stuyvesant." 

Thus having thrown his gauntlet, the brave Peter 
stuck a pair of horse-pistols in his belt, girded an im- 
mense powder-horn on his side, — thrust his sound leg 
into a Hessian boot, and clapping his fierce little war-hat 
on the top of his head, paraded up and down in front 
of his house, determined to defend his beloved city to 
the last. 

While all these struggles and dissensions were prevail- 
ing in the unhappy city of New Amsterdam, and while 
its worthy but ill-starred governor was framing the above- 
quoted letter, the English commanders did not remain 
idle. They had agents secretly employed to foment the 
fears and clamors of the populace ; and, moreover, circu- 
lated far and wide, through the adjacent country, a proc- 
lamation, repeating the terms they had already held out 
in their summons to surrender, at the same time beguil- 
ing the simple Nederlanders with the most crafty and 
conciliating professions. They promised that every man 
who voluntarily submitted to the authority of his British 
Majesty should retain peaceful possession of his house, 
his vrouw, and his cabbage-garden. That he should be 
suffered to smoke his pipe, speak Dutch, wear as many 



80 selections Prom Washington Irving. 

breeches as he pleased, and import bricks, tiles, and stone 
jugs from Holland, instead of manufacturing them on 
the spot. That he should on no account be compelled to 
learn the English language, nor eat codfish on Saturdays, 
nor keep accounts in any other way than by casting 
them up on his fingers, and chalking them down upon 
the crown of his hat; as is observed among the Dutch 
yeomanry at the present day. That every man should 
be allowed quietly to inherit his father's hat, coat, shoe- 
buckles, pipe, and every other personal appendage ; and 
that no man should be obliged to conform to any im- 
provements, inventions, or any other modern innovations ; 
but, on the contrary, should be permitted to build his 
house, follow his trade, manage his farm, rear his hogs, 
and educate his children, precisely as his ancestors had 
done before him from time immemorial. Finally, that 
he should have all the benefits of free trade, and should 
not be required to acknowledge any other saint in the 
calendar than St. Nicholas, who should thenceforward, 
as before, be considered the tutelar saint of the city. 

These terms, as may be supposed, appeared very satis- 
factory to the people, who had a great disposition to 
enjoy their property unmolested, and a most singular 
aversion to engage in a contest where they could gain 
little more than honor and broken heads, — the first of 
which they held in philosophic indifference, the latter in 
utter detestation. By these insidious means, therefore, 
did the English succeed in alienating the confidence and 
affections of the populace from their gallant old gov- 
ernor, whom they considered as obstinately bent upon 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 31 

running them into hideous misadventures ; and did not 
hesitate to speak their minds freely, and abuse him most 
heartily — behind his back. 

Like as a mighty grampus, when assailed and buffeted 
by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps on an 
undeviating course, rising above the boisterous billows, 
spouting and blowing as he emerges, — so did the inflex- 
ible Peter pursue, unwavering, his determined career, 
and rise, contemptuous, above the clamors of the rabble. 

But when the British warriors found that he set their 
power at defiance, they despatched recruiting officers to 
Jamaica, and Jericho, and Nineveh, and Quag, and 
Patchog, and all those towns on Long Island which had 
been subdued of yore by Stoffel Brinkerhoff ; stirring up 
the progeny of Preserved Fish, and Determined Cock, 
and those other New-England squatters, to assail the 
city of New Amsterdam by land, while the hostile ships 
prepared for an assault by water. 

The streets of New Amsterdam now presented a scene 
of wild dismay and consternation. In vain did Peter 
Stuyvesant order the citizens to arm and assemble on 
the Battery. Blank terror reigned over the community. 
The whole party of Short Pipes in the course of a single 
night had changed into arrant old women, — a metamor- 
phosis only to be paralleled by the prodigies recorded 
by Livy as having happened at Rome at the approach of 
Hannibal, when statues sweated in pure affright, goats 
were converted into sheep, and cocks, turning into hens, 
ran cackling about the street. 

Thus baffled in all attempts to put the city in a state 



32 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

of defence, blockaded from without, tormented from 
within, and menaced with a Yankee invasion, even the 
stiff-necked will of Peter Stuy vesant for once gave way, 
and, in spite of his mighty heart, which swelled in his 
throat until it nearly choked him, he consented to a 
treaty of surrender. 

Words cannot express the transports of the populace, 
on receiving this intelligence ; had they obtained a con- 
quest over their enemies, they could not have indulged 
greater delight. The streets resounded with their con- 
gratulations, — they extolled their governor as the father 
and deliverer of his country, — they crowded to his house 
to testify their gratitude, and were ten times more noisy 
in their plaudits than when he returned, with victory 
perched upon his beaver, from the glorious capture of 
Fort Christina. But the indignant Peter shut his doors 
and windows, and took refuge in the innermost recesses 
of his mansion, that he might not hear the ignoble rejoi- 
cings of the rabble. 

Commissioners were now appointed on both sides, and 
a capitulation was speedily arranged ; all that was want- 
ing to ratify it was that it should be signed by the gov- 
ernor. When the commissioners waited upon him for 
this purpose, they were received with grim and bitter 
courtesy. His warlike accoutrements were laid aside, — 
an old Indian night-gown was wrapped about his rugged 
limbs, a red night-cap overshadowed his frowning brow, 
an iron-gray beard of three days' growth gave additional 
grimness to his visage. Thrice did he seize a worn-out 
stump of a pen, and essay to sign the loathsome paper, 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 33 

— thrice did lie clinch his teeth, and make a horrible 
countenance, as though a dose of rhubarb, senna, and 
ipecacuanha had been offered to his lips ; at length, 
dashing it from him, he seized his brass-hilted sword, 
and jerking it from the scabbard, swore by St. Nicholas, 
to sooner die than yield to any power under heaven. 

For two whole days did he persist in this magnanimous 
resolution, during which his house was besieged by the 
rabble, and menaces and clamorous revilings exhausted 
to no purpose. And now another course was adopted to 
soothe, if possible, his mighty ire. A procession was 
formed by the burgomasters and schepens, followed by 
the populace, to bear the capitulation in state to the 
governor's dwelling. They found the castle strongly 
barricadoed, and the old hero in full regimentals, with 
his cocked hat on his head, posted with a blunderbuss at 
the garret window. 

There was something in this formidable position that 
struck even the ignoble vulgar with awe and admiration. 
The brawling multitude could not but reflect with self- 
abasement upon their own pusillanimous conduct, when 
they beheld their hardy but deserted old governor, thus 
faithful to his post, like a forlorn hope, and fully pre- 
pared to defend his ungrateful city to the last. These 
compunctions, however, were soon overwhelmed by the 
recurring tide of public apprehension. The populace 
arranged themselves before the house, taking off their 
hats with most respectful humility ; Burgomaster Eoer- 
back, who was of that popular class of orators described 
by Sallust as being "talkative rather than eloquent," 



34 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

stepped forth and addressed the governor in a speech of 
three hours' length, detailing, in the most pathetic terms, 
the calamitous situation of the province, and urging him, 
in a constant repetition of the same arguments and words, 
to sign the capitulation. 

The mighty Peter eyed him from his garret window in 
grim silence, — now and then his eye would glance over 
the surrounding rabble, and an indignant grin, like that 
of an angry mastiff, would mark his iron visage. But 
though a man of most undaunted metal, — though he had 
a heart as big as an ox, and a head that would have set 
adamant to scorn, — yet after all he was a mere mortal. 
Wearied out by these repeated oppositions, and this 
eternal haranguing, and perceiving that unless he com- 
plied, the inhabitants would follow their own inclination, 
or rather their fears, without waiting for his consent, or, 
what was still worse, the Yankees would have time to 
pour in their forces and claim a share in the conquest, 
he testily ordered them to hand up the paper. It was 
accordingly hoisted to him on the end of a pole; and 
having scrawled his name at the bottom of it, he anathe- 
matized them all for a set of cowardly, mutinous, degen- 
erate poltroons, threw the capitulation at their heads, 
slammed down the window, and was heard stumping 
down-stairs with vehement indignation. The rabble in- 
continently took to their heels ; even the burgomasters 
were not slow in evacuating the premises, fearing lest 
the sturdy Peter might issue from his den, and greet 
them with some unwelcome testimonial of his dis- 
pleasure. 



THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 35 

Within three hours after the surrender, a legion of 
British beef -fed warriors poured into New Amsterdam, 
taking possession of the fort and batteries. And now 
might be heard, from all quarters, the sound of hammers 
made by the old Dutch burghers, in nailing up their 
doors and windows, to protect their vrouws from these 
fierce barbarians, whom they contemplated in silent sul- 
lenness from the garret windows as they paraded through 
the streets. 

Thus did Colonel Richard Nichols, the commander of 
the British forces, enter into quiet possession of the con- 
quered realm as locum tenens for the Duke of York. 
The victory was attended with no other outrage than 
that of changing the name of the province and its 
metropolis, which thenceforth were denominated New 
York, and so have continued to be called unto the pres- 
ent day. The inhabitants, according to treaty, were 
allowed to maintain quiet possession of their property ; 
but so inveterately did they retain their abhorrence of 
the British nation, that in a private meeting of the lead- 
ing citizens it was unanimously determined never to ask 
any of their conquerors to dinner. 

Note. — Modern historians assert that when the New Netherlands 
were thus overrun by the British, as Spain in ancient days by the 
Saracens, a resolute band refused to bend the neck to the invader. 
Led by one Garret Van Home, a valorous and gigantic Dutchman, 
they crossed the bay and buried themselves among the marshes and 
cabbage gardens of Communipaw; as did Pelayo and his followers 
among the mountains of Asturias. Here their descendants have 
remained ever since, keeping themselves apart, like seed-corn, to 
repeople the city with the genuine breed whenever it shall be effec- 



36 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

tually recovered from its intruders. It is said the genuine descend- 
ants of the Nederlanders who inhabit New York, still look with 
longing eyes to the green marshes of ancient Pavonia, as did the con- 
quered Spaniards of yore to the stern mountains of Asturias, consid- 
ering these the regions whence deliverance is to come. 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 37 



KIP VAN WINKLE. 

A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. 

By Woden, God of Saxons, 

From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday, 

Truth is a thing that ever I will keep 

Unto thylke day in which I creep into 

My sepulchre Cartwright. 

[The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich 
Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the 
Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants from its 
primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie so much 
among books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty on his 
favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still more their 
wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true history. Whenever, 
therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its 
low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a 
little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book- 
worm. 

The result of all these researches was a history of the province during the 
reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years since. There 
have been various opinions as to the literary character of his work, and, to 
tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its 
scrupulous accuracy, which, indeed, was a little questioned on its first appear- 
ance, but has since been completely established ; and it is now admitted into 
all historical collections as a book of unquestionable authority. 

The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and now 
that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to say that 
his time might have been much better employed in weightier labors. He, 
however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way; and though it did now and 
then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the 
spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and affection, 
yet his errors and follies are remembered " more in sorrow than in anger," 
and it begins to be suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But 



38 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

however his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by 
many folk whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain 
biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their New 
Year cakes ; and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal 
to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne's Farthing.] 

Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must 
remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dis- 
membered branch of the great Appalachian family, and 
are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up 
to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding 
country. Every change of season, every change of 
weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some 
change in the magical hues and shapes of these moun- 
tains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far 
and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is 
fair and settled, they are clothed it blue and purple, and 
print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ; but 
sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, 
they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their 
summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will 
glow and light up like a crown of glory. 

At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may 
have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, 
whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where 
the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh 
green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of 
great antiquity, having been founded by some of the 
Dutch colonists in the early times of the province, just 
about the beginning of the government of the good Peter 
Stuy vesant (may he rest in peace !), and there were some 
of the houses of the original settlers standing within a 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 39 

few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from 
Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts, sur- 
mounted with weathercocks. 

In that same village, and in one of these very houses 
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn 
and weather-beaten), there lived, many years since, 
while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, 
a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van 
Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who 
figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter 
Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort 
Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the 
martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that 
he was a simple, good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a 
kind neighbor, and an obedient, henpecked husband. 
Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that 
meekness of spirit which gained him such universal 
popularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious 
and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of 
shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered 
pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic 
tribulation ; and a curtain-lecture is worth all the ser- 
mons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience 
and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in 
some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing 5 and if 
so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all 
the good wives of the village, who., as usual with the 
amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and 
never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in 



40 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame 
Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would 
shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at 
their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly 
kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of 
ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodg- 
ing about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of 
them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and 
playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; and 
not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighbor- 
hood. 

The great error in Rip's composition was an insupera- 
ble aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not 
be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he 
would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as 
a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even 
though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. 
He would carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours 
together, trudging through woods and swamps, and up 
hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild 
pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor 
even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all 
country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone 
fences ; the women of the village, too, used to employ 
him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs 
as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. 
In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's busi- 
ness but his own ; but as to doing family duty, and 
keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 41 

farm ; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in 
the whole country ; everything about it went wrong, and 
would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were con- 
tinually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, 
or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow 
quicker in his fields than anywhere else ; the rain always 
made a point of setting in just as he had some out-door 
work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had 
dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, 
until there was little more left than a mere patch of 
Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst condi- 
tioned farm in the neighborhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
belonged to nobody. His son Eip, an urchin begotten 
in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with 
the old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen 
trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a 
pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had 
much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does 
her train in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the 
world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be 
got with least thought or trouble, and would rather 
starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to 
himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect 
contentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning in 
his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin 
he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and 
night, her tongue was incessantly going, and everything 



42 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household 
eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lec- 
tures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown 
into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his 
head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, 
always provoked a fresh volley from his wife ; so that 
he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the out- 
side of the house — the only side which, in truth, belongs 
to a henpecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who 
was as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van 
Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and 
even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of 
his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all 
points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as 
courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods ; but 
what courage can withstand the ever-during and all- 
besetting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment 
Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to 
the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about 
with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at 
Dame Van Winkle, and at the least nourish of a broom- 
stick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping 
precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle 
as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never 
mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged 
tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long 
while he used to console himself, when driven from 
home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the 



HIP VAN WINKLE. 43 

sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the 
village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small 
inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty 
George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade 
through a long, lazy summer's day, talking listlessly 
over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories 
about nothing. But it would have been worth any 
statesman's money to have heard the profound discus- 
sions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old 
newspaper fell into their hands from some passing trav- 
eller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, 
as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the school- 
master, a dapper, learned little man, who was not to be 
daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary ; 
and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events 
some months after they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto were completely controlled 
by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land- 
lord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat 
from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid 
the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the 
neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accu- 
rately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard 
to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adhe- 
rents, however (for every great man has his adherents), 
perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his 
opinions. When anything that was read or related dis- 
pleased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe- 
mently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry 
puffs ; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke 



44 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid 
clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, 
and letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would 
gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip w r as at 
length routed by his termagant wife, who would sud- 
denly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage 
and call the members all to naught ; nor was that august 
personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the dar- 
ing tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him out- 
right with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and 
his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm 
and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and 
stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes 
seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents 
of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as 
a fellow-sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would 
say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it, but never 
mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a 
friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, 
look wistfully in his master's face ; and, if dogs can feel 
pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with 
all his heart. 

In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, 
Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest 
parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his 
favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes 
had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun. 
Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 45 

afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain 
herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From 
an opening between the trees he could overlook all the 
lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He 
saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, 
moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflec- 
tion of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here 
and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing 
itself in the blue highlands. 

On the other side he looked down into a deep moun- 
tain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom tilled 
with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely 
lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For 
some time Rip lay musing on this scene ; evening was 
gradually advancing ; the mountains began to throw 
their long blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that 
it would be dark long before he could reach the village, 
and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encoun- 
tering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. 

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a 
distance, hallooing, " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van 
Winkle ! " He looked round, but could see nothing but 
a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. 
He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and 
turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry 
ring through the still evening air : " Rip Van Winkle ! 
Rip Van Winkle ! " — at the same time Wolf bristled 
up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his 
master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip 
now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him ; he 



46 SELECTIONS FROM WA SHINGTON IR VINO. 

looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a 
strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending 
under the weight of something he carried on his back. 
He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely 
and unfrequented place; but supposing it to be some 
one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he 
hastened down to yield it. 

On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the 
singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a 
short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and 
a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch 
fashion, — a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist, 
several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, 
decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and 
bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout 
keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Kip 
to approach and assist him with the load. Though 
rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip 
complied with his usual alacrity ; and mutually relieving 
one another, they clambered up a narrow gully, appar- 
ently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they 
ascended, Rip every now and then heard long, rolling 
peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of 
a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, 
toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused 
for an instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of 
one of those transient thunder-showers which often take 
place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing 
through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small 
amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, 



UIP VAN WINKLE. 47 

over the brinks of which impending trees shot their 
branches, so that yon only caught glimpses of the azure 
sky and the bright evening cloud. During the whole 
time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence ; 
for, though the former marvelled greatly what could be 
the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild moun- 
tain, yet there was something strange and incomprehen- 
sible about the unknown, that inspired awe and checked 
familiarity. 

On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder 
presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was 
a company of odd-looking personages playing at nine- 
pins. They were dressed in a quaint, outlandish fash- 
ion ; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long 
knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous 
breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. 
Their visages, too, were peculiar : one had a large beard, 
broad face, and small, piggish eyes ; the face of another 
seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted 
by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's 
tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. 
There was one who seemed to be the commander. He 
was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten coun- 
tenance ; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, 
high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high- 
heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group 
reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, 
in the parlor of Dominie Yan Shaick, the village parson, 
and which had been brought over from Holland at the 
time of the settlement. 



48 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though 
these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they 
maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, 
and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure 
he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the still- 
ness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, when- 
ever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like 
rumbling peals of thunder. 

As Rip and his companion approached them, they sud- 
denly desisted from their play, and stared at him with 
such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, 
lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within 
him, and his knees smote together. His companion now 
emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and 
made signs to him to wait upon the company. He 
obeyed with fear and trembling ; they quaffed the liquor 
in profound silence, and then returned to their game. 

By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He 
even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste 
the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of 
excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, 
and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste 
provoked another ; and he reiterated his visits to the 
flagon so often that at length his senses were over- 
powered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually 
declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. 

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll 
whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He 
rubbed his eyes — it was a bright, sunny morning. The 
birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 49 

and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure 
mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not 
slept here all night." He recalled the occurrences before 
he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor — 
the mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the rocks 
— the woe-begone party at ninepins — the flagon — "Oh! 
that flagon ! that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip, — " what 
excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ? " 

He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, 
well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying 
by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling 
off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that 
the grave roisters of the mountain had put a trick upon 
him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him 
of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might 
have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He 
whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in 
vain ; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no 
dog was to be seen. 

He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's 
gambol, and, if he met with any of the party, to demand 
his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself 
stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. 
"These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought 
Rip, " and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of 
the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame 
Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into 
the glen : he found the gully up which he and his com- 
panion had ascended the preceding evening ; but, to his 
astonishment, a mountain stream was now foaming down 



50 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VINO. 

it, leaping from rock to rock, and rilling the glen with 
babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble 
up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of 
birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped 
up or entangled by the wild grape-vines that twisted 
their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a 
kind of network in his path. 

At length he reached to where the ravine had opened 
through the cliffs to the amphitheatre ; but no traces of 
such opening remained. The rocks presented a high, 
impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling 
in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad, deep 
basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. 
Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again 
called and whistled after his dog ; he was only answered 
by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in 
air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; 
and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down 
and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to 
be done ? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt 
famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give 
up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it 
would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook 
his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart 
full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. 

As he approached the village he met a number of 
people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat sur- 
prised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with 
every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was 
of a different fashion from that to which he was accus- 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 51 

tomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of 
surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, 
invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence 
of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the 
same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had 
grown a foot long ! 

He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop 
of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, 
and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one 
of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked 
at him as he passed. The very village was altered ; it 
was larger and more populous. There were rows of 
houses which he had never seen before, and those which 
had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange 
names were over the doors — strange faces at the win- 
dows — everything was strange. His mind now misgave 
him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world 
around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his 
native village, which he had left but the day before. 
There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran the 
silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and 
dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely 
perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "has 
addled my poor head sadly ! " 

It was with some difficulty that he found the way to 
his own house, which he approached with silent awe, 
expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame 
Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the 
roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off 
the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf 



52 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

was skulking about it. Kip called him by name, but the 
cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was 
an unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, 
" has forgotten me ! " 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame 
Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was 
empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This deso- 
lateness overcame all his connubial fears — he called 
loudly for his wife and children — the lonely chambers 
rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again 
was silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, 
the village inn — but it too was gone. A large, rickety, 
wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping 
windows, some of them broken and mended with old 
hats and peticoats, and over the door was painted, " The 
Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the 
great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn 
of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with 
something on the top that looked like a red nightcap, 
and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular 
assemblage of stars and stripes ; — all this was strange 
and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, how- 
ever, the ruby face of King George, under which he had 
smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even this was 
singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed 
for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand 
instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a 
cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large char- 
acters, General Washington. 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 53 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, 
but none that Rip recollected. The very character of 
the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bus- 
tling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accus- 
tomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in 
vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, 
double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco- 
smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the 
schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient 
newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking 
fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing 
vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — mem- 
bers of congress — liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes of 
seventy-six — and other words, which were a perfect 
Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Kip, with his long, grizzled beard, 
his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army 
of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the 
attention of the tavern-politicians. They crowded round 
him, eying him from head to foot with great curiosity. 
The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly 
aside, inquired " On which side he voted ? " Rip stared 
in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little 
fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, 
inquired in his ear, " Whether he was Federal or Demo- 
crat ? " Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the 
question ; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, 
in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, 
putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he 
passed; and planting himself before Van Winkle, with 



54 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen 
eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very 
soul, demanded in an austere tone, " What brought him 
to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at 
his heels ; and whether he meant to breed a riot in the 
village ? " — " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Eip, somewhat 
dismayed, " I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, 
and a loyal subject of the King, God bless him ! " 

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — " A 
tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with 
with him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self- 
important man in the cocked hat restored order ; and, 
having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded 
again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, 
and whom he was seeking ? The poor man humbly 
assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came 
there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to 
keep about the tavern. 

" Well — who are they ? — name them." 

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, 
" Where's Nicholas Vedder ? " 

There was a silence for a little while, when an old 
man replied, in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ! 
why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There 
was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to 
tell all about him, but that's rotten, and gone too." 

" Where's Brom Dutcher ? " 

" Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the 
war ; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony 
Point — others say he was drowned in a squall at the 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 55 

foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know — he never came 
back again." 

" Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster ? " 

" He went off to the wars too, was a great militia 
general, and is now in congress." 

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes 
in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone 
in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating 
of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which 
he could not understand : war — congress — Stony Point 
— he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but 
cried out in despair, " Does nobody here know Rip Van 
Winkle ? " 

"Oh, Eip Van Winkle !" exclaimed two or three, "oh, 
to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning 
against the tree." 

Eip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of him- 
self, as he went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, 
and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now com- 
pletely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and 
whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of 
his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded 
who he was, and what was his name. 

" God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end ; " I'm 
not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — 
no — that's somebody else got into my shoes — I was 
myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and 
they've changed my gun, and everything's changed, and 
I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I 
am!" 



56 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, 
wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their 
foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing 
the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, 
at the very suggestion of which the self-important man 
in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At 
this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed 
through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded 
man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, 
frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip," 
cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt 
you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, the 
tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in 
his mind. " What is your name, my good woman ? " 
asked he. 

"Judith Gardenier." 

" And your father's name ? " 

" Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but 
it's twenty years since he went away from home with 
his gun, and never has been heard of since, — his dog 
came home without him; but whether he shot himself, 
or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I 
was then but a little girl." 

Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he put it 
with a faltering voice : — 

"Where's your mother ? " 

" Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she 
broke a bloodvessel in a fit of passion at a New England 
pedler." 

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelli- 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 57 

gence. The honest man conld contain himself no longer. 
He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " I 
am your father ! " cried he — " young Rip Van Winkle 
once — old Rip Van Winkle now ! — Does nobody know 
poor Rip Van Winkle ? " 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out 
from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and 
peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, 
"Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself! 
Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, where have 
you been these twenty long years ? " 

Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years 
had been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared 
when they heard it ; some were seen to wink at each 
other, and put their tongues in their cheeks ; and the 
self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the 
alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down 
the corners of his mouth, and shook his head — upon 
which there was a general shaking of the head through- 
out the assemblage. 

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old 
Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up 
the road. He was a descendant of the historian of that 
name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the 
province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the 
village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and 
traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at 
once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory 
manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, 
handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the 



58 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VI NG. 

Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange 
beings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick 
Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country, 
kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his 
crew of the Half-moon ; being permitted in this way to 
revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian 
eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. 
That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch 
dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ; 
and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, 
the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up 
and returned to the more important concerns of the 
election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with 
her ; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout, 
cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for 
one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. 
As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, 
seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work 
on the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to 
attend to anything else but his business. 

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon 
found many of his former cronies, though all rather the 
worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred mak- 
ing friends among the rising generation, with whom he 
soon grew into great favor. 

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at 
that happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, 
he took his place once more on the bench at the inn- 
door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 59 

village, and a chronicle of the old times "before the war." 
It was some time before he could get into the regular 
track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the 
strange events that had taken place during his torpor. 
How that there had been a revolutionary war, — that the 
country had thrown off the yoke of old England, — and 
that, instead of being a subject of his Majesty George 
the Third, he was now a free citizen of the United 
States. Rip, in fact, was no politician ; the changes of 
states and empires made but little impression on him ; 
but there was one species of despotism under which he 
had long groaned, and that was — petticoat government. 
Happily that was at an end ; he had got his neck out of 
the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out when- 
ever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame 
Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, how- 
over, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast 
up his eyes ; which might pass either for an expression 
of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. 

He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived 
at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to 
vary on some points every time he told it, which was, 
doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It 
at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, 
and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but 
knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the 
reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his 
head, and that this was one point on which he always 
remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, 
almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day 



60 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

they never hear a thunder storm of a summer afternoon 
about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and 
his crew are at their game of ninepins ; and it is a 
common wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neigh- 
borhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that 
they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van 
Winkle's flagon. 

NOTE. 

The foregoing Tale, one would suspect, had been suggested to 
Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the 
Emperor Frederick der Rothbart, and the Kypphauser mountain: 
the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to this tale, 
shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual fidelity. 

" The story of Rip Yan Winkle may seem incredible to many, 
but nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity 
of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to mar- 
vellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many 
stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson* all 
of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I 
have even talked with Rip Yan Winkle myself, who, when last I 
saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational 
and consistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious 
person could refuse to take this into the bargain; nay, I have 
seen a certificate on the subject taken before a country justice 
and signed with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The 
story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of doubt. 

"D. K." 

POSTSCRIPT. 

The following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book 
of Mr. Knickerbocker. 

The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a 
region full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 61 

spirits, who influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds 
over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunting-seasons. 
They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. 
She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and had charge 
of the doors of day and night to open and shut them at the 
proper hour. She hung up the new moons in the skies, and cut 
up the old ones into stars. In times of drought, if properly pro- 
pitiated, she would spin light summer clouds out of cobwebs and 
morning dew, and send them off from the crest of the mountain, 
flake after flake, like flakes of carded cotton, to float in the air; 
until, dissolved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in gentle 
showers, causing the grass to spring, the fruits to ripen, and the 
corn to grow an inch an hour. If displeased, however, she would 
brew up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of them like a 
bottle-bellied spider in the midst of its web; and when these 
clouds broke, woe betide the valley! 

In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of 
Manitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the 
Catskill Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking 
all kinds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes 
he would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead 
the bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forests and 
among ragged rocks; and then spring off with a loud ho! ho! 
leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precipice or raging 
torrent. 

The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great 
rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the 
flowering vines which clamber about it, and the wild flowers 
which abound in its neighborhood, is known by the name of the 
Garden Bock. Near the foot of it is a small lake, the haunt of 
the solitary bittern, with water-snakes basking in the sun on the 
leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface. This place 
was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that the boldest 
hunter would not pursue his game within its precincts. Once 
upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way, penetrated 



62 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed 
in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made off 
with it, but in the hurry of his retreat he let it fall among the 
rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which washed him 
away and swept him down precipices, where he was dashed to 
pieces, and the stream made its way to the Hudson, and contin- 
ues to flow to the present day; being the identical stream known 
by the name of Kaaters-kill. 



CHRISTMAS. 63 



CHEISTMAS. 

But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing hut the hair of 
his good, gray, old head and beard left? Well, I will have that, 
seeing I cannot have more of him. 

Hue and Cry after Christmas. 



A man might then behold 

At Christmas, in each hall 
Good fires to curb the cold, 

And meat for great and small. 
The neighbors were friendly bidden, 

And all had welcome true; 
The poor from the gates were not chidden 

When this old cap was new. — Old Song. 

Nothing in England exercised a more delightful spell 
over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday 
customs and rural games of former times. They recall 
the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morn- 
ing of life, when as yet I only knew the world through 
books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted 
it; and they bring with them the flavor of those honest 
days of yore, in which, perhaps, with equal fallacy, I am 
apt to think the world was more homebred, social, and 
joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are 
daily growing more and more faint, being gradually 
worn away by time, but still more obliterated by modern 



64 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

fashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of 
Gothic architecture, which we see crumbling in various 
parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of 
ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of 
later days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing 
fondness about the rural game and holiday revel, from 
which it has derived so many of its themes — as the ivy 
winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and mould- 
ering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasp- 
ing together their tottering remains, and, as it were, 
embalming them in verdure. 

Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas 
awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. 
There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends 
with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of 
hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the 
church about this season are extremely tender and in- 
spiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin 
of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied 
its announcement. They gradually increase in fervor 
and pathos during the season of Advent, until they 
break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought 
peace and good-will to men. I do not know a grander 
effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the 
full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas 
anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast 
pile with triumphant harmony. 

It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days 
of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the 
announcement of the religion of peat e and love, has been 



CHRISTMAS. 65 

made the season for gathering together of family con- 
nections, and drawing closer again those bands of kin- 
dred hearts, which the cares and pleasures and sorrows 
of the world are continually operating to cast loose ; of 
calling back the children of a family, who have launched 
forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to 
assemble about the paternal hearth, that rally ing-place 
of the affections, there to grow young and loving again 
among the endearing mementos of childhood. 

There is something in the very season of the year that 
gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other 
times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from 
the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth 
and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and 
we " live abroad and everywhere." The song of the bird, 
the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of 
spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden 
pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle of refreshing 
green, and heaven with its deep, delicious blue and its 
cloudy magnificence, all fill us with mute but exquisite 
delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere sensation. 
But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled 
of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted 
snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral sources. 
The dreariness and desolation of the landscape, the 
short, gloomy days and darksome nights, while they 
circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also 
from rambling abroad, and make us more keenly dis- 
posed for the pleasure of the social circle. Our thoughts 
are more concentrated ; our friendly sympathies more 



QQ SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm of each 
other's society, and are brought more closely together by 
dependence on each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth 
unto heart; and we draw our pleasures from the deep 
wells of loving-kindness, which lie in the quiet recesses 
of our bosoms ; and which, when resorted to, furnish 
forth the pure element of domestic felicity. 

The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on 
entering the room filled with the glow and warmth of 
the evening fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial 
summer and sunshine through the room, and lights up 
each countenance in a kindlier welcome. Where does 
the honest face of hospitality expand into a broader and 
more cordial smile — where is the shy glance of love 
more sweetly eloquent — than by the winter fireside ? 
and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through 
the hall, claps the distant door, whistles about the case- 
ment, and rumbles down the chimney, what can be more 
grateful than that feeling of sober and sheltered security, 
with which we look round upon the comfortable chamber 
and the scene of domestic hilarity ? 

The English, from the great prevalence of rural habit 
throughout every class of society, have always been fond 
of those festivals and holidays which agreeably interrupt 
the stillness of country life ; and they were, in former 
days, particularly observant of the religious and social 
rights of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry 
details which some antiquaries have given of the quaint 
humors, the burlesque pageants, the complete abandon- 
ment to mirth and good-fellowship, with which this fes- 



CHRISTMAS. 67 

tival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every 
door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant 
and the peer together, and blended all ranks in one 
warm, generous now of joy and kindness. The old halls 
of castles and manor-houses resounded with the harp 
and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned 
under the weight of hospitality. Even the poorest cot- 
tage welcomed the festive season with green decorations 
of bay and holly, — the cheerful fire glanced its rays 
through the lattice, inviting the passengers to raise the 
latch, and join the gossip knot huddled round the hearth, 
beguiling the long evening with legendary jokes, and 
oft-told Christmas tales. , 

One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement 
is the havoc it has made among the hearty old holiday 
customs. It has completely taken off the sharp touch- 
ings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of life, 
and has worn down society into a more smooth and pol- 
ished, but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many 
of the games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely 
disappeared, and, like the sherris sack of old Falstaff, 
are become matters of speculation and dispute among 
commentators. They flourished in times full of spirit 
and lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but 
heartily and vigorously; times wild and picturesque, 
which have furnished poetry with its richest materials, 
and the drama with its most attractive variety of 
characters and manners. The world has become more 
worldly. There is more of dissipation, and less of 
enjoyment. Pleasure has expanded into a broader, but 



68 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

a shallower stream, and lias forsaken many of those deep 
and quiet channels where it flowed sweetly through the 
calm bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a 
more enlightened and elegant tone ; but it has lost many 
of its strong, local peculiarities, its homebred feelings, 
its honest fireside delights. The traditionary customs of 
golden-hearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities, and 
lordly wassailings, have passed away with the baronial 
castles and stately manor-houses in which they were 
celebrated. They comported with the shadowy hall, the 
great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlor, but are 
unfitted to the light, showy saloons and gay drawing- 
rooms of the modern villa. 

Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive 
honors, Christmas is still a period of delightful excite- 
ment in England. It is gratifying to see that home-feel- 
ing completely aroused which holds so powerful a place 
in every English bosom. The preparations making on 
every side for the social board that is again to unite 
friends and kindred ; the presents of good cheer passing 
and repassing, those tokens of regard, and quickeners of 
kind feelings; the evergreens distributed about houses, 
and churches, emblems of peace and gladness ; all these 
have the most pleasing effect in producing fond associa- 
tions, and kindling benevolent sympathies. Even the 
sound of the Waits, rude as may be their minstrelsy, 
breaks upon the mid-watches of a winter night with the 
effect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened by 
them in that still and solemn hour, " when deep sleep 
falleth upon man," I have listened with a hushed de- 



CHRISTMAS. 69 

light, and, connecting them with the sacred and joyous 
occasion, have almost fancied them into another celestial 
choir, announcing peace and good-will to mankind. 

How delightfully the imagination, when wrought upon 
by these moral influences, turns everything to melody 
and beauty ! The very crowing of the cock, heard some- 
times in the profound repose of the country, "telling the 
night-watches to his feathery dames," was thought by 
the common people to announce the approach of this 
sacred festival. 

" Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
This bird of dawning singeth all night long; 
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
The nights are wholesome — then no planets strike, 
No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm, 
So hallow' d and so gracious is the time." 

Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the 
spirits, and stir of the affections, which prevail at this 
period, what bosom can remain insensible ? It is, in- 
deed, the season for kindling, not merely the fire of 
hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in 
the heart. 

The scene of early love again rises green to memory 
beyond the sterile waste of years ; and the idea of home, 
fraught with the fragrance of home-dwelling joys, reani- 
mates the drooping spirit ; as the Arabian breeze will 
sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the 
weary pilgrim of the desert. 



70 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land — though 
for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof 
throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship 
welcome me at the threshold — yet I feel the influence 
of the season beaming into my soul from the happy 
looks of those around me. Surely, happiness is reflec- 
tive, like the light of heaven; and every countenance, 
bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoy- 
ment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a 
supreme and ever-shining benevolence. He who can 
turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of 
his fellow-beings, and can sit down darkling and repin- 
ing in his loneliness when all around is joyful, may 
have his moments of strong excitement and selfish grati- 
fication, but he wants the genial and social sympathies 
which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas. 



THE STAGE-COACH. 71 



THE STAGE-COACH. 

Omne bene 

Sine poena 
Temp us est ludendi. 

Venit hora 

Absque mora 
Libros deponendi. 

Old Holiday School Song. 

In the preceding paper I have made some general 
observations on the Christmas festivities of England, 
and am tempted to illustrate them by some anecdotes of 
a Christmas passed in the country ; in perusing which I 
would most courteously invite my reader to lay aside 
the austerity of wisdom, and to put on that genuine 
holiday spirit which is tolerant of folly, and anxious 
only for amusement. 

In the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode 
for a long distance in one of the public coaches, on the 
day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both 
inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, 
seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations or 
friends, to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also 
with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of deli- 
cacies ; and hares hung dangling their long ears about 
the coachman's box, presents from distant friends for 
the impending feast. I had three fine, rosy-cheeked 



72 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

boys for my fellow-passengers inside, full of the buxom 
health, and manly spirit which I have observed in the 
children of this country. They were returning home for 
the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a 
world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the 
gigantic plans of the little rogues, and the impracticable 
feats they were to perform during their six weeks' eman- 
cipation from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and 
pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meet- 
ing with the family and household, down to the very cat 
and dog ; and of the joy they were to give their little 
sisters by the presents with which their pockets were 
crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look 
forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, 
which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, 
possessed of more virtues than any steed since the days 
of Bucephalus. How he could trot ! how he could run ! 
and then such leaps as he would take — there was not a 
hedge in the whole country that he could not clear. 

They were under the particular guardianship of the 
coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented, 
they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him 
one of the best fellows in the world. Indeed, I could 
not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and 
importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little 
on one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens 
stuck in the button-hole of his coat. He is always a 
personage full of mighty care and business, but he is 
particularly so during this season, having so many com- 
missions to execute in consequence of the great inter- 



THE STAGE-COACH. 73 

change of presents. And here, perhaps, it may not be 
unacceptable to my untravelled readers, to have a sketch 
that may serve as a general representation of this very 
numerous and important class of functionaries, who have 
a dress, a manner, a language, an air, peculiar to them- 
selves, and prevalent throughout the fraternity ; so, that, 
wherever an English stage-coachman may be seen, he 
cannot be mistaken for one of any other craft or mystery. 

He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled 
with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding 
into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly 
dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and 
his bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of 
coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper 
one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, 
low-crowned hat ; a huge roll of colored handkerchief 
about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the 
bosom ; and has in summer-time a large bouquet of 
flowers in his button-hole ; the present, most probably, 
of some enamored country lass. His waistcoat is com- 
monly of some bright color, striped, and his small-clothes 
extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey- 
boots which reach about half-way up his legs. 

All this costume is maintained with much precision ; 
he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent mate- 
rials ; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his 
appearance, there is still discernible that neatness and 
propriety of person which is almost inherent in an 
Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consid- 
eration along the road; has frequent conferences with 



74 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the village housewives, who look upon him as a man of 
great trust and dependence; and he seems to have a 
good understanding with every bright-eyed country lass. 
The moment he arrives where the horses are to be 
changed, he throws down the reins with something of an 
air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the hostler; 
his duty being merely to drive from one stage to another. 
When off the box, his hands are thrust into the pockets 
of his great-coat, and he rolls about the inn-yard with an 
air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he is generally 
surrounded by an admiring throng of hostlers, stable- 
boys, shoe-blacks, and those nameless hangers-on, that 
infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kind 
of odd jobs, for the privilege of battening on the drip- 
pings of the kitchen and the leakage of the tap-room. 
These all look up to him as to an oracle ; treasure up his 
cant phrases ; echo his opinions about horses and other 
topics of jockey lore ; and, above all, endeavor to imitate 
his air and carriage. Every ragamuffin that has a coat 
to his back, thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his 
gait, talks slang, and is an embryo Coachey. 

Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity 
that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw 
cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the jour- 
ney. A stage-coach, however, carries animation always 
with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. 
The horn, sounded at the entrance of a village, produces 
a general bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends ; 
some with bundles and bandboxes to secure places, and 
in the hurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the 



THE STAGE-COACH. 75 

group that accompanies them. In the mean time, the 
coachman has a world of small commissions to execute. 
Sometimes he delivers a hare or pheasant ; sometimes 
jerks a small parcel or newspaper to the door, of a public 
house ; and sometimes, with knowing leer and words of 
sly import, hands to some half -blushing, half-laughing 
housemaid an odd-shaped billet-doux from some rustic 
admirer. As the coach rattles through the village, every 
one runs to the window, and you have glances on every 
side of fresh country faces and blooming giggling girls. 
At the corners are assembled juntos of village idlers and 
wise men, who take their stations there for the important 
purpose of seeing company pass ; but the sagest knot is 
generally at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of 
the coach is an event fruitful of much speculation. The 
smith, with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the 
vehicle whirls by ; the cyclops round the anvil suspend 
their ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow cool ; 
and the sooty spectre, in brown paper cap, laboring at 
the bellows, leans on the handle for a moment, and 
permits the asthmatic engine to heave a long-drawn 
sigh, while he glares through the murky smoke and 
sulphureous gleams of the smithy. 

Perhaps the impending holiday might have given a 
more than usual animation to the country, for it seemed 
to me as if everybody was in good looks and good spirits. 
Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were in 
brisk circulation in the villages ; the grocers', butchers', 
and fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers. 
The housewives were stirring briskly about, putting 



76 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

their dwellings in order ; and the glossy branches of 
holly, with their bright-red berries, began to appear at 
the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer's 
account of Christmas preparations : "Now capons and 
hens, beside turkey, geese, and ducks, with beef and 
mutton — must all die — for in twelve days a multitude 
of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and 
spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. 
Now or never must music be in tune, for the youth must 
dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by 
the fire. The country maid leaves half her market, and 
must be sent again, if she forgets a pack of cards on 
Christmas eve. Great is the contention of holly and 
ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice 
and cards benefit the butler ; and if the cook do not lack 
wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers." 

I was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation by 
a shout from my little travelling companions. They 
had been looking out of the coach-windows for the last 
few miles, recognizing every tree and cottage as they 
approached home, and now there was a general burst of 
joy. "There's John ! and there's old Carlo ! and there's 
Bantam ! " cried the happy little rogues, clapping their 
hands. 

At the end of the lane there was an old, sober-looking 
servant in livery, waiting for them ; he was accompanied 
by a superannuated pointer, and by the redoubtable 
Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a shaggy mane 
and long, rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the 
roadside, little dreaming of the bustling times that 
awaited him. 



THE STAGE-COACH. 77 

I was pleased to see the fondness with which the little 
fellows leaped about the steady old footman, and hugged 
the pointer, who wriggled his whole body for joy. But 
Bantam was the great object of interest ; all wanted to 
mount at once, and it was with some difficulty that John 
arranged that they should ride by turns, and the eldest 
should ride first. 

Off they set at last ; one on the pony, with the dog 
bounding and barking before him, and the others holding 
John's hands ; both talking at once, and overpowering 
him with questions about home, and with school anec- 
dotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which I do 
not know whether pleasure or melancholy predominated ; 
for I was reminded of those days, when, like them, I had 
neither known care nor sorrow, and a holiday was the 
summit of earthly felicity. We stopped a few moments 
afterwards to water the horses, and on resuming our 
route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat 
country-seat. I could just distinguish the forms of a 
lady and two young girls in the portico, and I saw my 
little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old John, 
trooping along the carriage-road. I leaned out the 
coach window, in hopes of witnessing the happy meet- 
ing, but a grove of trees shut it from my sight. 

In the evening we reached a village where I had 
determined to pass the night. As we drove into the 
great gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of 
a rousing kitchen fire beaming through a window. I 
entered, and admired, for the hundredth time, that 
picture of convenience, neatness, and broad, honest en- 



78 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

joyment, the kitchen of an English inn. It was of 
spacious dimensions, hung round with copper and tin 
vessels highly polished, and decorated here and there 
with a Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches of 
bacon were suspended from the ceiling ; a smoke-jack 
made its ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, and a 
clock ticked in the corner. A well-scoured deal table 
extended along one side of the kitchen, with a cold 
round of beef, and other hearty viands upon it, over 
which two foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting 
guard. Travellers of inferior order were preparing to 
attack this stout repast, while others sat smoking and 
gossiping over their ale on two high-backed oaken settles 
beside the fire. Trim housemaids were hurrying back- 
wards and forwards under the directions of a fresh, 
bustling landlady ; but still seizing an occasional moment 
to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh, 
with the group round the fire. The scene completely 
realized Poor Robin's humble idea of the comforts of 
mid-winter. 

Now trees their leafy hats do bare 
To reverence Winter's silver hair; 
A handsome hostess, merry host, 
A pot of ale now and a toast, 
Tobacco and a good coal-fire, 
Are things this season doth require. 1 

I had not been long at the inn when a postchaise 
drove up to the door. A young gentleman stept out, and 
by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a counte- 

1 Poor Robin's Almanac, 1684 



THE STAGE-COACH. 79 

nance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get 
a nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was not 
mistaken ; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly, good- 
humored young fellow, with whom I had once travelled 
on the continent. Our meeting was extremely cordial, 
for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller always 
brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant scenes, 
odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all 
these in a transient interview at an inn was impossible ; 
and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was 
merely making a tour of observation, he insisted that I 
should give him a day or two at his father's country- 
seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and 
which lay at a few miles' distance. "It is better than 
eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn," said he ; 
" and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something 
of the old-fashioned style." His reasoning was cogent, 
and I must confess the preparation I had seen for uni- 
versal festivity and social enjoyment had made me feel a 
little impatient of my loneliness. I closed, therefore, at 
once, with his invitation ; the chaise drove up to the 
door, and in a few moments I was on my way to the 
family mansion of the Bracebridges. 



80 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Saint Francis and Saint Benedight 
Blesse this house from wicked wight ; 
From the night-mare and the goblin, 
That is hight good fellow Robin ; 
Keep it from all evil spirits, 
Fairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets, 

From curfew time 

To the next prime. 

Cartwright. 

It was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold ; 
our chaise whirled rapidly over the frozen ground ; the 
post-boy smacked his whip incessantly, and a part of the 
time his horses were on a gallop. " He knows where he 
is going," said my companion, laughing, "and is eager to 
arrive in time for some of the merriment and good cheer 
of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is a 
bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides himself 
upon keeping up something of old English hospitality. 
He is a tolerable specimen of what you will rarely meet 
with nowadays in its purity, the old English country 
gentleman ; for our men of fortune spend so much of 
their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into 
the country, that the strong, rich peculiarities of ancient 
rural life are almost polished away. My father, how- 
ever, from early years, took honest Peacham \ for his 

1 Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1622. 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 81 

textbook, instead of Chesterfield ; he determined in his 
own mind that there was no condition more truly honor- 
able and enviable than that of a country gentleman on 
his paternal lands, and therefore passes the whole of his 
time on his estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the 
revival of the old rural games and holiday observances, 
and is deeply read in the writers, ancient and modern, 
who have treated on the subject. Indeed, his favorite 
range of reading is among the authors who nourished at 
least two centuries since; who, he insists, wrote and 
thought more like true Englishmen than any of their 
successors. He even regrets sometimes that he had not 
been born a few centuries earlier, when England was 
itself, and had its peculiar manners and customs. As he 
lives at some distance from the main road, in rather a 
lonely part of the country, without any rival gentry near 
him, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an 
Englishman, an opportunity of indulging the bent of his 
own humor without molestation. Being representative 
of the oldest family in the neighborhood, and a great 
part of the peasantry being his tenants, he is much 
looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by the 
appellation of ' The Squire ; ? a title which has been 
accorded to the head of the family since time immemo- 
rial. I think it best to give you these hints about my 
worthy old father, to prepare you for any eccentricities 
that might otherwise appear absurd." 

We had passed for sometime along the wall of a park, 
and at length the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in 
a heavy, magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully 



82 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

wrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The huge 
square columns that supported the gate were surmounted 
by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's 
lodge, sheltered under dark fir-trees, and almost buried 
in shrubbery. 

The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which re- 
sounded through the still frosty air, and was answered 
by the distant barking of dogs, with which the mansion- 
house seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately 
appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly 
upon her, I had a full view of a little primitive dame, 
dressed very much in the antique taste, with a neat ker- 
chief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping from 
under a cap of snowy whiteness. She came courtesying 
forth, with many expressions of simple joy at seeing her 
young master. Her husband, it seemed, was up at the 
house keeping Christmas Eve in the servants' hall ; they 
could not do without him, as he was the best hand at a 
song and story in the household. 

My friend proposed that we should alight and walk 
through the park to the hall, which was at no great dis- 
tance, while the chaise should follow on. Our road 
wound through a noble avenue of trees, among the 
naked branches of which the moon glittered, as she 
rolled through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The 
lawn beyond was sheeted with a slight covering of snow, 
which here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught 
a frosty crystal ; and at a distance might be seen a thin, 
transparent vapor, stealing up from the low grounds, 
and threatening gradually to shroud the landscape. 



CHRISTMAS EVE.- 83 

My companion looked around him with transport : 
" How often," said he, " have I scampered up this 
avenue, on returning home on school vacations ! How 
often have I played under these trees when a boy! I 
feel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up 
to those who have cherished us in childhood. My father 
was always scrupulous in exacting our holidays, and 
having us around him on family festivals. He used to 
direct and superintend our games with the strictness 
that some parents do the studies of their children. He 
was very particular that we should play the old English 
games according to their original form; and consulted 
old books for precedent and authority for every 'merrie 
disport;' yet I assure you there never was pedantry so 
delightful. It was the policy of the good old gentleman 
to make his children feel that home was the happiest 
place in the world; and I value this delicious home-feel- 
ing as one of the choicest gifts a parent could bestow." 

We were interrupted by the clamor of a troop of dogs 
of all sorts and sizes, "mongrel, puppy, whelp, and 
hound, and curs of low degree," that, disturbed by the 
ring of the porter's bell and the rattling of the chaise, 
came bounding, open-mouthed, across the lawn. 

" The little dogs and all, 



Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me!" 

cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice, 
the bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a 
moment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by 
the caresses of the faithful animals. 



84 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

We had now come in full view of the old family 
mansion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up 
by the cool moonshine. It was an irregular building, of 
some magnitude, and seemed to be of the architecture of 
different periods. One wing was evidently very ancient, 
with heavy, stone-shafted bow-windows jutting out and 
overrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the 
small diamond-shaped panes of glass glittered with the 
moonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French 
taste of Charles the Second's time, having been repaired 
and altered, as my friend told me, by one of his ances- 
tors, who returned with that monarch at the Restoration. 
The grounds about the house were laid out in the old 
formal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrub- 
beries, raised terraces, and heavy stone balustrades 
ornamented with urns, a leaden statue or two, and a jet 
of water. The old gentleman, I was told, was extremely 
careful to preserve this obsolete finery in all its original 
state. He admired this fashion in gardening ; it had an 
air of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting 
good old family style. The boasted imitation of nature 
in modern gardening had sprung up with modern repub- 
lican notions, but did not suit a monarchical govern- 
ment ; it smacked of the levelling system. I could not 
help smiling at this introduction of politics into garden- 
ing, though I expressed some apprehension that I should 
find the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. 
Frank assured me, however, that it was almost the only 
instance in which he had ever heard his father meddle 
with politics ; and he believed that he had got this notion 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 85 

from a member of parliament who once passed a few- 
weeks with him. The squire was glad of any argument 
to defend his clipped yew-trees and formal terraces, 
which had been occasionally attacked by modern land- 
scape gardeners. 

As we approached the house, we heard the sound of 
music, and now and then a burst of laughter, from one 
end of the building. This, Bracebridge said, must pro- 
ceed from the servants' hall, where a great deal of 
revelry was permitted, and even encouraged by the 
squire, throughout the twelve days of Christmas, pro- 
vided everything was done conformably to ancient usage. 
Here were kept up the old games of hoodman blind, 
shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob 
apple, and snap-dragon ; the Yule clog and Christmas 
candle, were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe, with its 
white berries, hung up, to the imminent peril of all the 
pretty housemaids. 1 

So intent were the servants upon their sports that we 
had to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves 
heard. On our arrival being announced, the squire came 
out to receive us, accompanied by his two other sons : 
one a young officer in the army, home on leave of 
absence, the other an Oxonian, just from the university. 
The squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentleman, 
with silver hair curling lightly round an open, florid 

1 The mistletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens at 
Christmas ; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls 
under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the 
berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases. 



86 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. 

countenance ; in which the physiognomist, with the 
advantage, like myself, of a previous hint or two, might 
discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence. 

The family meeting was warm and affectionate : as 
the evening was far advanced, the squire would not 
permit us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered 
us at once to the company, which was assembled in a 
large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different 
branches of a numerous family connection, where there 
were the usual proportions of old uncles and aunts, 
comfortable married dames, superannuated spinsters, 
blooming country cousins, half -fledged striplings, and 
bright-eyed boarding-school hoydens. They were vari- 
ously occupied : some at a round game of cards ; others 
conversing around the fireplace ; at one end of the hall 
was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, 
others of a more tender and budding age, fully engrossed 
by a merry game ; and a profusion of wooden horses, 
penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about the floor, 
showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, 
having frolicked through a happy day, had been carried 
off to slumber through a peaceful night. 

While the mutual greetings were going on between 
young Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan 
the apartment. I have called it a hall, for so it had 
certainly been in old times, and the squire had evidently 
endeavored to restore it to something of its primitive 
state. Over the heavy, projecting fireplace was sus- 
pended a picture of a warrior in armor, standing by a 
white horse, and on the opposite wall hung a helmet, 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 87 

buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous pair of 
antlers were inserted in the wall, the branches serving 
as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs ; 
and in the corners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, 
fishing-rods, and other sporting implements. The fur- 
niture was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days, 
though some articles of modern convenience had been 
added, and the oaken floor had been carpeted ; so that 
the whole presented an odd mixture of parlor and hall. 
The grate had been removed from the wide, over- 
whelming fireplace, to make way for a fire of wood, in 
the midst of which was an enormous log glowing and 
blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and 
heat : this I understood was the Yule clog, which the 
squire was particular in having brought in and illumined 
on a Christmas Eve, according to ancient custom. 1 

1 The Yule clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, 
brought into the house with great ceremony, on Christmas Eve, laid 
in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. 
While it lasted, there was great drinking, singing, and telling of 
tales. Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles ; but in 
the cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great 
wood fire. The Yule clog was to burn all night ; if it went out, it was 
considered a sign of ill luck. 

Herrick mentions it in one of his songs : — 

" Come, bring with a noise, 

My merrie, merrie boyes, 
The Christmas log to the firing; 

While my good dame, she 

Bids ye all be free, 
And drink to your heart's desiring." 

The Yule clog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in 
England, particularly in the north, and there are several supersti- 



88 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

It was really delightful to see the old squire seated in 
his hereditary elbow-chair, by the hospitable fireside of 
his ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a 
system, beaming warmth and gladness to every heart. 
Even the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he 
lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look fondly 
up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and 
stretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness and 
protection. There is an emanation from the heart in 
genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is 
immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his 
ease. I had not been seated many minutes by the 
comfortable hearth of the worthy old cavalier, before I 
found myself as much at home as if I had been one of 
the family. 

Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It 
was served up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels 
of which shone with wax, and around which were several 
family portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Besides 
the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers, called 
Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed 
on a highly polished beaufet among the family plate. 
The table was abundantly spread with substantial fare ; 
but the squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish 
made of wheat-cakes boiled in milk, with rich spices, 
being a standing dish in old times for Christmas Eve. 

tions connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person 
come to the house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is 
considered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yule clog is 
carefully put away to light the next year's Christmas fire. 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 89 

I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the 
retinue of the feast; and finding him to be perfectly 
orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predi- 
lection, I greeted him with all the warmth wherewith we 
usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance. 

The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by 
the humors of an eccentric personage whom Mr. Brace- 
bridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of 
Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man, with 
the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped 
like the bill of a parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the 
small-pox, with a dry, perpetual bloom on it, like a frost- 
bitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness 
and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of 
expression that was irresistible. He was evidently the 
wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and 
innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite merri- 
ment by harping upon old themes ; which, unfortunately, 
my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit 
me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during 
supper to keep a young girl next him in a continual 
agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the 
reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite. In- 
deed, he was the idol of the younger part of the com- 
pany, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at 
every turn of his countenance ; I could not wonder at it ; 
for he must have been a miracle of accomplishments in 
their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy ; make an 
old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt 
cork and pocket-handkerchief; and cut an orange into 



90 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks were 
ready to die with laughing. 

I was let briefly into his history by Frank Brace- 
bridge. He was an old bachelor, of a small independent 
income, which, by careful management, was sufficient for 
all his wants. He revolved through the family system 
like a vagrant comet in its orbit ; sometimes visiting one 
branch, and sometimes another quite remote ; as is often 
the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and 
small fortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant 
disposition, always enjoying the present moment; and 
his frequent change of scene and company prevented his 
acquiring those rusty, unaccommodating habits, with 
which old bachelors are so uncharitably charged. He 
was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the 
genealogy, history, and intermarriages of the whole 
house of Bracebridge, which made him a great favorite 
with .the old folks ; he was a beau of all the elder ladies 
and superannuated spinsters, among whom he was habit- 
ually considered rather a young fellow, and he was 
master of the revels among the children; so that there 
was not a more popular being in the sphere in which he 
moved than Mr. Simon Bracebridge. Of late years, he 
had resided almost entirely with the squire, to whom 
he had become a factotum, and whom he particularly 
delighted by jumping with his humor in respect to old 
times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every 
occasion. We had presently a specimen of his last- 
mentioned talent ; for no sooner was supper removed, 
and spiced wines and other beverages peculiar to the 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 91 

season introduced, than Master Simon was called on for 
a good old Christmas song. He bethought himself for a 
moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice 
that was by no means bad, excepting that it ran occasion- 
ally into a falsetto, like the notes of a split reed, he 
quavered forth a quaint old ditty. 

" Now Christmas is come, 

Let us beat up the drum, 
And call all our neighbors together, 

And when they appear, 

Let us make them such cheer, 
As will keep out the wind and the weather," etc. 

The supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an 
old harper was summoned from the servants' hall, where 
he had been strumming all the evening, and to all 
appearance comforting himself with some of the squire's 
home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, 
of the establishment, and, though ostensibly a resident 
of the village, was oftener to be found in the squire's 
kitchen than his own home, the old gentleman being 
fond of the sound of "harp in hall." 

The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry 
one ; some of the older folks joined in it, and the squire 
himself figured down several couple with a partner, with 
whom he affirmed he had danced at every Christmas for 
nearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemed to be 
a kind of connecting link between the old times and the 
new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste 
of his accomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his 



92 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

dancing, and was endeavoring to gain credit by the heel 
and toe, rigadoon, and other graces of the ancient 
school ; but he had unluckily assorted himself with a 
little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by her 
wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and 
defeated all his sober attempts at elegance — such are 
the ill-assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are 
unfortunately prone ! 

The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one 
of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a thou- 
sand little knaveries with impunity : he was full of 
practical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts 
and cousins ; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was a 
universal favorite among the women. The most interest- 
ing couple in the dance was the young officer and a ward 
of the squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. 
From several shy glances which I had noticed in the 
course of the evening, I suspected there was a little 
kindness growing up betweem them; and, indeed, the 
young soldier was just the hero to captivate a romantic 
girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and, like most 
young British officers of late years, had picked up vari- 
ous small accomplishments on the continent — he could 
talk French and Italian, draw landscapes, sing very 
tolerably, dance divinely ; but, above all, he had been 
wounded at Waterloo — what girl of seventeen, well 
read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of 
chivalry and perfection ! 

The moment the dance was over, he caught up a 
guitar, and, lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 93 

attitude which I am half inclined to suspect was studied, 
began the little French air of the Troubadour. The 
squire, however, exclaimed against having anything on 
Christmas Eve but good old English ; upon which the 
young minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in 
an effort of memory, struck into another strain, and, 
with a charming air of gallantry, gave Herrick's " Night- 
Piece to Julia." 

" Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, 
The shooting stars attend thee, 

And the elves also, 

Whose little eyes glow 
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. 

No Will-o' -the- Wisp mislight thee; 
Nor snake nor slow-worm bite thee ; 

But on, on thy way, 

Not making a stay, 
Since ghost there is none to affright thee. 

Then let not the dark thee cumber; 
What though the moon does slumber, 

The stars of the night 

Will lend thee their light, 
Like tapers clear without number. 

Then, Julia, let me woo thee, 
Thus, thus to come unto me, 

And when I shall meet 

Thy silvery feet, 
My soul I'll pour into thee." 

The song might or might not have been intended in 
compliment to the fair Julia, for so I found his partner 



94 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

was called ; she, however, was certainly unconscious of 
any such application, for she never looked at the singer, 
but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was 
suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was 
a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubt- 
less caused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so 
great was her indifference, that she amused herself with 
plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot-house flowers, 
and by the time the song was concluded the nosegay lay 
in ruins on the floor. 

The party now broke up for the night with the kind- 
hearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed 
through the hall, on my way to my chamber, the dying 
embers of the Yule clog still sent forth a dusky glow, 
and had it not been the season when "no spirit dares 
stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal 
from my room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies 
might not be at their revels about the hearth. 

My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the 
ponderous furniture of which might have been fabricated 
in the days of the giants. The room was pannelled with 
cornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers and 
grotesque faces were strangely intermingled; and a row 
of black-looking portraits stared mournfully at me from 
the walls. The bed was of rich, though faded damask, 
with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow- 
window. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of 
music seemed to break forth in the air just below the 
window. I listened, and found it proceeded from a 
band, which I concluded to be the waits from some 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 95 

neighboring village. They went round the house, play- 
ing under the windows. I drew aside the curtains to 
hear them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell through 
the upper part of the casement, partially lighting up the 
antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded, 
became more soft and aerial, and seemed to accord with 
the quiet and moonlight. I listened and listened, — they 
became more and more tender and remote, and, as they 
gradually died away, my head sunk upon the pillow, and 
I fell asleep. 



96 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. 



CHEISTMAS DAY. 

Dark and dull night, flie hence away, 
And give the honor to this day 
That sees December turn'd to May. 

Why does the chilling winter's morne 
Smile like a field beset with corn ? 
Or smell like to a meade new-shorne, 
Thus on the sudden ? — Come and see 
The cause why things thus fragrant be. 



Herrick. 



When I woke the next morning, it seemed as if all 
the events of the preceding evening had been a dream, 
and nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber 
convinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on 
my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering 
outside of the door, and a whispering consultation. 
Presently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old 
Christmas carol, the burden of which was : — 

" Rejoice, our Saviour he was born 
On Christmas day in the morning." 

I rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door 
suddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little 
fairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consisted 
of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six, 
and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 97 

the house, and singing at every chamber door ; but my 
sudden appearance frightened them into mute bashful- 
ness. They remained for a moment playing on their 
lips with their fingers, and now and then stealing a shy 
glance from under their eyebrows, until, as if by one 
impulse, they scampered away, and as they turned an 
angle of the gallery, I heard them laughing in triumph 
at their escape. 

Everything conspired to produce kind and happy 
feelings in this stronghold of old-fashioned hospitality. 
The window of my chamber looked out upon what in 
summer would have been a beautiful landscape. There 
was a sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of 
it, and a tract of park beyond, with noble clumps of 
trees, and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat 
hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys 
hanging over it; and a church with its dark spire in 
strong relief against the clear, cold sky. The house was 
surrounded with evergreens, according to the English 
custom, which would have given almost an appearance 
of summer, but the morning was extremely frosty ; the 
light vapor of the preceding evening had been precipi- 
tated by the cold, and covered all the trees and every 
blade of grass with its fine crystallizations. The rays 
of a bright morning sun had a dazzling effect among the 
glittering foliage. A robin, perched upon the top of a 
mountain-ash that hung its clusters of red berries just 
before my window, was basking himself in the sunshine, 
and piping a few querulous notes ; and a peacock was 
displaying all the glories of his train, and strutting with 



98 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the pride and gravity of a Spanish grandee, on the 
terrace-walk below. 

I had scarcely dressed myself, when a servant appeared 
to invite me to family prayers. He showed me the way 
to a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I 
found the principal part of the family already assembled 
in a kind of gallery, furnished with cushions, hassocks, 
and large prayer-books; the servants were seated on 
benches below. The old gentleman read prayers from a 
desk in front of the gallery, and Master Simon acted as 
clerk, and made the responses ; and I must do him the 
justice to say that he acquitted himself with great gravity 
and decorum. 

The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which 
Mr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem of 
his favorite author, Herrick ; and it had been adapted to 
an old church melody by Master Simon. As there were 
several good voices among the household, the effect was 
extremely pleasing ; but I was particularly gratified by 
the exaltation of heart, and sudden sally of grateful 
feeling, with which the worthy squire delivered one 
stanza ; his eye glistening, and his voice rambling out of 
all the bounds of time and tune : — 

" 'Tis thou that crown' st my glittering hearth 
With guiltless mirth, 
And givest me Wassaile bowles to drink 

Spiced to the brink; 
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand 

That soiles my land; 
And giv'st me from my bushell sowne, 
Twice ten for one." 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 99 

I afterwards understood that early morning service was 
read On every Sunday and saints' day throughout the 
year, either by Mr. Bracebridge or by some member of 
the family. It was once almost universally the case at 
the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and it 
is much to be regretted that the custom is falling into 
neglect ; for the dullest observer must be sensible of the 
order and serenity prevalent in those households, where 
the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship in 
the morning gives, as it were, the key-note to every tem- 
per for the day, and attunes every spirit to harmony. 

Our breakfast consisted of what the squire denomi- 
nated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter 
lamentations over modern breakfasts of tea and toast, 
which he censured as among the causes of modern effemi- 
nacy and weak nerves, and the decline of old English 
heartiness ; and though he admitted them to his table to 
suit the palates of his guests, yet there was a brave dis- 
play of cold meats, wine, and ale on the sideboard. 

After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank 
Bracebridge and Master Simon, or, Mr. Simon, as he was 
called by everybody but the squire. We were escorted 
by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemed loungers 
about the establishment, from the frisking spaniel to the 
steady old staghound, — the last of which was of a race 
that had been in the family time out of mind; they 
were all obedient to a dog-whistle which hung to Master 
Simon's button-hole, and in the midst of their gambols 
would glance an eye occasionally upon a small switch he 
carried in his hand. 



100 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the 
yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight ; and I could not 
but feel the force of the squire's idea, that the formal 
terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped yew- 
trees carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. 
There appeared to be an unusual number of peacocks 
about the place, and I was making some remarks upon 
what I termed a flock of them, that were basking under 
a sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phrase- 
ology by Master Simon, who told me that, according to 
the most ancient and approved treatise on hunting, I 
must say a muster of peacocks. "In the same way," 
added he, with a slight air of pedantry, " we say a flight 
of doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, 
of wrens, or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of 
rooks." He went on to inform me that, according to Sir 
Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe to this bird 
" both understanding and glory ; for, being praised, he 
will presently set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to 
the intent you may the better behold the beauty thereof. 
But at the fall of the leaf, when his tail falleth, he will 
mourn and hide himself in corners, till his tail come 
again as it was." 

I could not help smiling at this display of small erudi- 
tion on so whimsical a subject; but I found that the pea- 
cocks were birds of some consequence at the hall ; for 
Frank Bracebridge informed me that they were great 
favorites with his father, who was extremely careful to 
keep up the breed; partly because they belonged to 
chivalry, and were in great request at the stately ban- 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 101 

quets of the olden time, and partly because they had a 
pomp and magnificence about them, highly becoming an 
old family mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say, 
had an air of greater state and dignity than a peacock 
perched upon an antique stone balustrade. 

Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appoint- 
ment at the parish church with the village choristers, 
who were to perform some music of his selection. There 
was something extremely agreeable in the cheerful flow 
of animal spirits of the little man ; and I confess I had 
been somewhat surprised at his apt quotations from au- 
thors who certainly were not in the range of every-day 
reading. I mentioned this last circumstance to Frank 
Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that Master Si- 
mon's whole stock of erudition was confined to some half 
a dozen old authors, which the squire had put into his 
hands, and which he had read over and over, whenever 
he had a studious fit ; as he sometimes had on a rainy 
day, or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony Fitzherbert's 
" Book of Husbandry ; " Markham's " Country Content- 
ments ; " the " Tretyse of Hunting," by Sir Thomas Cock- 
ayne, Knight ; Izaak Walton's " Angler," and two or three 
more such ancient worthies of the pen, were his standard 
authorities ; and, like all men who know but a few books, 
he looked up to them with a kind of idolatry, and quoted 
them on all occasions. As to his songs, they were chiefly 
picked out of old books in the squire's library, and 
adapted to tunes that were popular among the choice 
spirits of the last century. His practical application of 
scraps of literature, however, had caused him to be looked 



102 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

upon as a prodigy of book knowledge by all the grooms, 
huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighborhood. 

While we were talking we heard the distant tolling of 
the village bell, and I was told that the squire was a little 
particular in having his household at church on a Christ- 
mas morning, considering it a day of pouring out of 
thanks and rejoicing ; for, as old Tusser observed, 

" At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal, 
And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small." 

"If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank 
Bracebridge, " I can promise you a specimen of my 
cousin Simon's musical achievements. As the church is 
destitute of an organ, he has formed a band from the 
village amateurs, and established a musical club for their 
improvement ; he has also sorted a choir, as he sorted my 
father's pack of hounds, according to the directions of 
Jervaise Markham, in his "Country Contentments;" for 
the bass he has sought out all the ' deep, solemn mouths,' 
and for the tenor the ' loud-ringing mouths,' among the 
country bumpkins ; and for ' sweet mouths,' he has culled 
with curious taste among the prettiest lasses in the neigh- 
borhood ; though these last, he affirms, are the most dif- 
ficult to keep in tune ; your pretty female singer being 
exceedingly wayward and capricious, and very liable to 
accident." 

As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine 
and clear, the most of the family walked to the church, 
which was a very old building of gray stone, and stood 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 103 

near a village, about half a mile from the park gate. 
Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed 
coeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly 
matted with a yew-tree, that had been trained against 
its walls, through the dense foliage of which apertures 
had been formed to admit light into the small antique 
lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parson 
issued forth and preceded us. 

I had expected to see a sleek, well-conditioned pastor, 
such as is often found in a snug living in the vicinity of 
a rich patron's table ; but I was disappointed. The 
parson was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a 
grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each 
ear ; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away 
within it, like a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a 
rusty coat, with great skirts, and pockets that would 
have held the church Bible and prayer-book ; and his 
small legs seemed still smaller from being planted in 
large shoes, decorated with enormous buckles. 

I was informed by Frank Bracebridge, that the parson 
had been a chum of his father's at Oxford, and had 
received this living shortly after the latter had come to 
his estate. He was a complete black-letter hunter, and 
would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman char- 
acter. The editions of Caxton and Wynkin de Worde 
were his delight; and he was indefatigable in his re- 
searches after such old English writers as have fallen 
into oblivion from their worthlessness. In deference, 
perhaps, to the notions of Mr. Bracebridge, he had made 
diligent investigations into the festive rites and holiday 



104 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

customs of former times ; and had been as zealous in 
the inquiry as if he had been a boon companion ; but it 
was merely with that plodding spirit with which men of 
adust temperament follow up any track of study, merely 
because it is denominated learning ; indifferent to its 
intrinsic nature, whether it be the illustration of the 
wisdom, or the ribaldry and obscenity of antiquity. He 
had pored over these old volumes so intensely, that they 
seemed to have been reflected in his countenance ; which, 
if the face be indeed an index of the mind, might be 
compared to a title-page of black-letter. 

On reaching the church porch, we found the parson 
rebuking the gray-headed sexton for having used mistle- 
toe among the greens with which the church was deco- 
rated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profaned 
by having been used by the Druids in their mystic cere- 
monies ; and though it might be innocently employed in 
the festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it had 
been deemed by the Fathers of the Church as unhal- 
lowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tena- 
cious was he on this point, that the poor sexton was 
obliged to strip down a great part of the humble trophies 
of his taste, before the parson would consent to enter 
upon the service of the day. 

The interior of the church was venerable but simple ; 
on the walls were several mural monuments of the 
Bracebridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of 
ancient workmanship, on which lay the effigy of a war- 
rior in armor, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having 
been a Crusader. I was told it was one of the family 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 105 

who had signalized himself in the Holy Land, and 
the same whose picture hung over the fireplace in the 
hall. 

During service. Master Simon stood up in the pew, and 
repeated the responses very audibly ; evincing that kind 
of ceremonious devotion punctually observed by a gen- 
tleman of the old school, and a man of old family con- 
nections. I observed, too, that he turned over the leaves 
of a folio prayer-book with something of a flourish ; pos- 
sibly to show off an enormous seal ring which enriched 
one of his fingers, and which had the look of a family 
relic. But he was evidently most solicitous about the 
musical part of the service, keeping his eye fixed intently 
on the choir, and beating time with much gesticulation 
and emphasis. 

The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a 
most whimsical grouping of heads, piled one above the 
other, among which I particularly noticed that of the 
village tailor, a pale fellow with a retreating forehead 
and chin, who played on the clarionet, and seemed to 
have blown his face to a point ; and there was another, 
a short pursy man, stooping and laboring at a bass-viol, 
so as to show nothing but the top of a round. bald head, 
like the egg of an ostrich. There were two or three 
pretty faces among the female singers, to which the 
keen air of a frosty morning had given a bright rosy 
tint; but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been 
chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than 
looks ; and as several had to sing from the same book, 
there were clusterings of odd physiognomies, not unlike 



106 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

those groups of cherubs we sometimes see on country- 
tombstones. 

The usual services of the choir were managed toler- 
ably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little be- 
hind the instrumental, and some loitering fiddler now 
and then making up for lost time by travelling over a 
passage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more bars 
than the keenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But 
the great trial was an anthem that had been prepared 
and arranged by Master Simon, and on which he had 
founded great expectation. Unluckily there was a blun- 
der at the very outset ; the musicians became flurried ; 
Master Simon was in a fever ; everything went on lamely 
and irregularly until they came to a chorus beginning, 
" Now let us sing with one accord," which seemed to be 
a signal for parting company: all became discord and 
confusion ; each shifted for himself, and got to the end 
as well, or, rather, as soon, as he could, excepting one 
old chorister in a pair of horn spectacles, bestriding and 
pinching a long sonorous nose ; who happened to stand 
a little apart, and, being wrapped up in his own melody, 
kept on a quavering course, wriggling his head, ogling 
his book, and winding all up by a nasal solo of at least 
three bars' duration. 

The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites 
and ceremonies of Christmas, and the propriety of ob- 
serving it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but of 
rejoicing ; supporting the correctness of his opinions by 
the earliest usages of the church, and enforcing them 
by the authorities of Theophilus of Cesarea, St. Cyprian, 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 107 

St. Chrysostorn, St. Augustine, and a cloud more of saints 
and fathers, from whom he made copious quotations. I 
was a little at a loss to perceive the necessity of such 
a mighty array of forces to maintain a point which no 
one present seemed inclined to dispute ; but I soon 
found that the good man had a legion of ideal adver- 
saries to contend with ; having, in the course of his 
researches on the subject of Christmas, got completely 
embroiled in the sectarian controversies of the Kevolu- 
tion, when the Puritans made such a fierce assault upon 
the ceremonies of the church, and poor old Christmas 
was driven out of the land by proclamation of Parlia- 
ment. 1 The worthy parson lived but with times past, 
and knew but little of the present. 

Shut up among wormeaten tomes in the retirement of 
his antiquated little study, the pages of old times were 
to him as the gazettes of the day ; while the era of the 
Revolution was mere modern history. He forgot that 
nearly two centuries had elapsed since the fiery perse- 

1 From the Flying Eagle, a small Gazette, published December 
24, 1652 : — " The House spent much time this day about the business 
of the Navy, for settling the affairs at sea, and before they rose, 
were presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, 
grounded upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17; and 
in honor of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John 
xx. 1; Rev. i. 10; Psalm cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xv. 8; 
Psalm lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti-christ's masse, 
and those Masse-mongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In conse- 
quence of which Parliament spent some time in consultation about 
the abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and re- 
solved to sit on the following day, which was commonly called 
Christmas day." 



108 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

cution of poor mince pie throughout the land ; when 
plum porridge was denounced as "mere popery," and 
roast beef as anti-Christian ; and that Christmas had been 
brought in again triumphantly with the merry court of 
King Charles at the Restoration. He kindled into 
warmth with the ardor of his contest, and the host of 
imaginary foes with whom he had to combat ; he had a 
stubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other 
forgotten champions of the Round Heads on the subject 
of Christmas festivity ; and concluded by urging his 
hearers, in the most solemn and affecting manner, to 
stand to the traditional customs of their fathers, and 
feast and make merry on this joyful anniversary of the 
Church. 

I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently 
with more immediate effects ; for on leaving the church 
the congregation seemed one and all possessed with the 
gayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their pastor. 
The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, 
greeting and shaking hands ; and the children ran about 
crying Ule ! Ule ! and repeating some uncouth rhymes, 1 
which the parson, who had joined us, informed me had 
been handed down from days of yore. . The villagers 
doffed 'their hats to the squire as he passed, giving him 
the good wishes of the season with every appearance of 
heartfelt sincerity, and were invited by him to the hall, 
to take something to keep out the cold of the weather ; 

i " Ule! Ule! 

Three puddings in a pule 
Crack nuts and cry ule ! " 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 109 

and I heard blessings uttered by several of the poor, 
which convinced me that, in the midst of his enjoyments, 
the worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true 
Christmas virtue of charity. 

. On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowed 
with generous and happy feelings. As we passed over a 
rising ground which commanded something of a prospect, 
the sounds of rustic merriment now and then reached our 
ears ; the squire paused for a few moments, and looked 
around with an air of inexpressible benignity. The 
beauty of the day was of itself sufficient to inspire phi- 
lanthropy. Notwithstanding the frostiness of the morn- 
ing, the sun in his cloudless journey had acquired 
sufficient power to melt away the" thin covering of snow 
from every southern declivity, and to bring out the living 
green which adorns an English landscape even in mid- 
winter. Large tracts of smiling verdure contrasted with 
the dazzling whiteness of the shaded slopes and hollows. 
Every sheltered bank, on which the broad rays rested, 
yielded its silver rill of cold and limpid water, glittering 
through the dripping grass ; and sent up slight exhala- 
tions to contribute to the thin haze that hung just above 
the surface of the earth. There was something truly 
cheering in this triumph of warmth and verdure over the 
frosty thraldom of winter ; it was, as the squire observed, 
an emblem of Christmas hospitality, breaking through 
the chills of ceremony and selfishness, and thawing every 
heart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indi- 
cations of good cheer reeking from the chimneys of the 
comfortable farmhouses and low thatched cottages. " I 



110 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

love/' said he, " to see this day well kept by rich and 
poor ; it is a great thing to have one day in the year, at 
least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you 
go, and of having, as it were, the world all thrown open 
to you ; and I am almost disposed to join with Poor 
Robin, in his malediction on every churlish enemy to this 
honest festival, — 

" Those who at Christmas do repine 
And would fain hence dispatch him, 
May they with old Duke Humphry dine, 
Or else may Squire Ketch catch 'em." 

The squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of 
the games and amusements which were once prevalent at 
this season among the lower orders, and countenanced 
by the higher ; when the old halls of the castles and 
manor-houses were thrown open at daylight ; when the 
tables were covered with brawn, and beef, and humming 
ale ; when the harp and the carol resounded all day long, 
and when rich and poor were alike welcome to enter and 
make merry. 1 " Our old games and local customs,' 7 said 
he, " had a great effect in making the peasant fond of his 
home, and the promotion of them by the gentry made 

1 " An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, i.e., on 
Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbors enter 
his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black- 
jacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar and nutmeg, and good 
Cheshire cheese. The hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by 
daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i.e., the 
cook) by the arms and run her around the market-place till she is 
ashamed of her laziness." — Round About our Sea-Coal Fire. 



CHRISTMAS DAY. Ill 

him fond of his lord. They made the times merrier and 
kinder and better, and I can truly say, with one of our 
old poets, — 

" 'I like them well — the curious preciseness 
And all-pretended gravity of those 
That seek to banish hence these harmless sports 
Have thrust away much ancient honesty.' 

" The nation/' continued he, " is altered ; we have 
almost lost our simple true-hearted peasantry. They 
have broken asunder from the higher classes, and seem 
to think their interests are separate. They have become 
too knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to ale- 
house politicians, and talk of reform. I think one mode 
to keep them in good-humor in these hard times would 
be for the nobility and gentry to pass more time on their 
estates, mingle more among the country people, and set 
the merry old English games going again." 

Such was the good squire's project for mitigating pub- 
lic discontent : and, indeed, he had once attempted to 
put his doctrine in practice, and a few years before had 
kept open house during the holidays in the old style. 
The country people, however, did not understand how to 
play their parts in the scene of hospitality ; many un- 
couth circumstances occurred : the manor was overrun 
by all the vagrants of the country, and more beggars 
drawn into the neighborhood in one week than the par- 
ish officers could get rid of in a year. Since then he 
had contented himself with inviting the decent part of 
the neighboring peasantry to call at the hall on Christ- 



112 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

mas Day, and with distributing beef and bread and ale 
among the poor, that they might make merry in their 
own dwellings. 

We had not been long home when the sound of music 
was heard in the distance. A band of country lads, 
without coats, their shirt sleeves fancifully tied with 
ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in 
their hands, was seen advancing up the avenue, followed 
by a large number of villagers and peasantry. They 
stopped before the hall-door, when the music struck up 
a peculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and in- 
tricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their 
clubs together, keeping exact time to the music ; while 
one, whimsically crowned with a fox's skin, the tail 
of which flaunted down his back, kept capering round 
the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmas box 
with many antic gesticulations. 

The squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great in- 
terest and delight, and gave me a full account of its ori- 
gin, which he traced to the times when the Romans held 
possession of the island ; plainly proving that this was 
a lineal descendant of the sword-dance of the ancients. 
"It was now/ 7 he said, " nearly extinct, but he had acci- 
dentally met with traces of it in the neighborhood, and 
had encouraged its revival ; though, to tell the truth, it 
was too apt to be followed up by the rough cudgel play, 
and broken heads in the evening." 

After the dance was concluded, the whole party was 
entertained with brawn and beef, and stout home 
brewed. The squire himself mingled among the rus- 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 113 

tics, and was received with awkward demonstrations 
of deference and regard. It is true I perceived two 
or three of the younger peasants, as they were rais- 
ing their tankards to their mouths, when the squire's 
back was turned, making something of a grimace, and 
giving each other the wink ; but the moment they 
caught my eye they pulled grave faces, and were ex- 
ceedingly demure. With Master Simon, however, they 
all seemed more at their ease. His varied occupations 
and amusements had made him well known throughout 
the neighborhood. He was a visitor at every farmhouse 
and cottage ; gossiped with the farmers and their wives ; 
romped with their daughters ; and, like that type of a 
vagrant bachelor, the humblebee, tolled the sweets from 
all the rosy lips of the country round. 

The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before 
good cheer and affability. There is something genuine 
and affectionate in the gayety of the lower orders, when 
it is excited by the bounty and familiarity of those above 
them ; the warm glow of gratitude enters into their mirth, 
and a kind word or a small pleasantry frankly uttered 
by a patron gladdens the heart of the dependent more 
than oil and wine. When the squire had retired, the 
merriment increased, and there was much joking and 
laughter, particularly between Master Simon and a hale, 
ruddy-faced, white-headed farmer, who appeared to be 
the wit of the village ; for I observed all his companions 
to wait with open mouths for his retorts, and burst into 
a gratuitous laugh before they could well understand 
them. 



114 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The whole house indeed seemed abandoned to merri- 
ment : as I passed to my room to dress for dinner, I 
heard the sound of music in a small court, and, looking 
through a window that commanded it, I perceived a band 
of wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and tam- 
bourine ; a pretty conquettish housemaid was dancing 
a jig with a smart country lad, while several of the 
other servants were looking on. In the midst of her 
sport the girl caught a glimpse of my face at the win- 
dow, and, coloring up, ran off with an air of roguish 
affected confusion. 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 115 



THE CHEISTMAS DINKEE. 

" Lo, now is come our joyful'st feast ! 
Let every man be jolly, 
Eache roome with yvie leaves is drest, 

And every post with holly. 
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, 

And Christmas blocks are burning ; 
Their ovens they with bak't meats choke, 
And all their spits are turning. 
Without the door let sorrow lie, 
And if, for cold, it hap to die, 
Wee'le bury't in a Christmas pye, 
And evermore be merry." 

Withers's Juvenilia. 

I had finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank 
Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a distant 
thwacking sound, which he informed me was a signal for 
the serving up of the dinner. The squire kept up old 
customs in kitchen as well as hall ; and the rolling-pin, 
struck upon the dresser by the cook, summoned the ser- 
vants to carry in the meats. 

" Just in this nick the cook knock' d thrice, 
And all the waiters in a trice 

His summons did obey ; 
Each serving man, with dish in hand, 
March' d boldly up, like our train band, 
Presented, and away." 1 

1 Sir J ohn Suckling. 



116 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The dinner was served np in the great hall where the 
squire always held his Christmas banquet. A blazing, 
crackling fire of logs had been heaped on to warm the 
spacious apartment, and the flame went sparkling and 
wreathing up the wide-mouthed chimney. The great 
picture of the crusader and his white horse had been 
profusely decorated with greens for the occasion ; and 
holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed round the hel- 
met and weapons on the opposite wall, which I under- 
stood were the arms of the same warrior. I must own, 
by-the-by, I had strong doubts about the authenticity of 
the painting and armor as having belonged to the cru- 
sader, they certainly having the stamp of more recent 
days ; but I was told that the painting had been so con- 
sidered time out of mind ; and that, as to the armor, it 
had been found in a lumber-room, and elevated to its 
present situation by the squire, who at once determined 
it to be the armor of the family hero ; and as he was 
absolute authority on all such subjects in his own house- 
hold, the matter had passed into current acceptation. A 
sideboard was set out just under this chivalric trophy, 
on which was a display of plate that might have vied (at 
least in variety) with Belshazzar's parade of the vessels 
of the temple: "flagons, cans, cups, beakers, goblets, 
basins, and ewers ; " the gorgeous utensils of good com- 
panionship that had gradually accumulated through 
many generations of jovial housekeepers. Before these 
stood the two Yule candles, beaming like two stars of 
the first magnitude ; other lights were distributed in 
branches, and the whole array glittered like a firmament 
of silver. 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 117 

We were ushered into this banqueting scene with the 
sound of minstrelsy, the old harper being seated on a 
stool beside the fireplace, and twanging his instrument 
with a vast deal more power than melody. Never did 
Christinas board display a more goodly and gracious 
assemblage of countenances ; those who were not hand- 
some were, at least, happy ; and happiness is a rare 
improver of your hard-favored visage. I always con- 
sider an old English family as well worth studying as a 
collection of Holbein's portraits or Albert Dtirer's prints. 
There is much antiquarian lore to be acquired; much 
knowledge of the physiognomies of former times. Per- 
haps it may be from having continually before their 
eyes those rows of old family portraits, with which the 
mansions of this country are stocked ; certain it is, that 
the quaint features of antiquity are often most faith- 
fully perpetuated in these ancient lines ; and I have 
traced an old family nose through a whole picture gal- 
lery, legitimately handed down from generation to gener- 
ation, almost from the time of the Conquest. Something 
of the kind was to be observed in the worthy company 
around me. Many of their faces had evidently originated 
in a Gothic age, and been merely copied by succeed- 
ing generations ; and there was one little girl in par- 
ticular, of staid demeanor, with a high Roman nose, and 
an antique vinegar aspect, who was a great favorite of 
the squire's, being, as he said, a Bracebridge all over, 
and the very counterpart of one of his ancestors who fig- 
ured in the court of Henry VIII. 

The parson said grace, which was not a short familiar 



118 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

one, such as is commonly addressed to the Deity in these 
unceremonious days ; but a long, courtly, well-worded 
one of the ancient school. There was now a pause, as if 
something was expected; when suddenly the butler 
entered the hall with some degree of bustle : he was 
attended by a servant on each side with a large wax- 
light, and bore a silver dish, on which was an enormous 
pig's head, decorated with rosemary, with a lemon in its 
mouth, which was placed with great formality at the head 
of the table. The moment this pageant made its appear- 
ance, the harper struck up a flourish ; at the conclusion 
of which the young Oxonian, on receiving a hint from 
the squire, gave, with an air of the most comic gravity, 
an old carol, the first verse of which was as follows : — 

* 
" Caput apri defero 

Keddens laudes Domino. 
The boar's head in hand bring I, 
With garlands gay and rosemary. 
I pray you all synge merrily 

Qui estis in convivio." 

Though prepared to witness many of these little 
eccentricities, from being apprised of the peculiar hobby 
of mine host, yet, I confess, the parade with which so 
odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me, until 
I gathered from the conversation of the squire and the 
parson, that it was meant to represent the bringing in of 
the boar's head ; a dish formerly served up with much 
ceremony and the sound of minstrelsy and song, at great 
tables, on Christmas Day. " I like the old custom," said 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 119 

the squire, " not merely because it is stately and pleas- 
ing in itself, but because it was observed at the college 
at Oxford at which I was educated. When I hear the 
old song chanted, it brings to mind the time when I was 
young and gamesome, and the noble old college hall, and 
my fellow-students loitering about in their black gowns ; 
many of whom, poor lads, are now in their graves ! " 

The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by 
such associations, and who was always more taken up 
with the text than the sentiment, objected to the Oxo- 
nian's version of the carol ; which he affirmed was differ- 
ent from that sung at college. 1 He went on with the dry 
perseverance of a commentator, to give the college read- 
ing, accompanied by sundry annotations, addressing 

1 The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas 
Day is still observed in the hall of Queen's College, Oxford. I was 
favored by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and, as 
it may be acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these 
grave and learned matters, I give it entire. 

" The boar's head in hand bear I, 
Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary ; 
And I pray you, my masters, be merry 
Quot estis in convivio. 
Caput apri defero, 
Reddens laudes Domino. 

The boar's head, as I understand, 
Is the rarest dish in all this land, 
Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland 
Let us servire cantico. 
Caput apri defero, etc. 

Our steward hath provided this 
In honor of the King of Bliss, 
Which on this day to be served is 
In Reginensi Atrio. 
Caput apri defero," 

etc., etc., etc. 



120 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

himself at first to the company at large; but finding 
their attention gradually diverted to other talk and other 
objects, he lowered his tone as his number of auditors 
diminished, until he concluded his remarks in an under- 
voice, to a fat-headed old gentleman next him, who was 
silently engaged in the discussion of a huge plateful of 
turkey. 

The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and 
presented an epitome of country abundance, in this 
season of overflowing larders. A distinguished post was 
allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host termed it; 
being, as he added, " the standard of old English hospi- 
tality, and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expec- 
tation." There were several dishes quaintly decorated, 
and which had evidently something traditional in their 
embellishments ; but about which, as I did not like to 
appear over-curious, I asked no questions. 

I could not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently 
decorated with peacock's feathers, in imitation of the 
tail of that bird, which overshadowed a considerable 
tract of the table. This, the squire confessed, with some 
little hesitation, was a pheasant-pie, though a peacock-pie 
was certainly the most authentical ; but there had been 
such a mortality among the peacocks this season, that 
he could not prevail upon himself to have one killed. 1 

1 The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately entertain- 
ments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of which the 
head appeared ahove the crust in all its plumage, with the beak 
richly gilt ; at the other ertd the tail was displayed. Such pies were 
served up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when knights-errant 
pledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise, whence 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 121 

It would be tedious, perhaps, to my wiser readers, 
who may not have that foolish fondness for odd and 
obsolete things to which I am a little given, were I to 
mention the other makeshifts of this worthy old humor- 
ist, by which he was endeavoring to follow up, though 
at humble distance, the quaint customs of antiquity. I 
was pleased, however, to see the respect shown to his 
whims by his children and relatives ; who, indeed, 
entered readily into the full spirit of them, and seemed 
all well versed in their parts ; having doubtless been 
present at many a rehearsal. I was amused, too, at the 
air of profound gravity with which the butler and other 
servants executed the duties assigned them, however 
eccentric. They had an old-fashioned look ; having, for 
the most part, been brought up in the household, and 
grown into keeping with the antiquated mansion, and 
the humors of its lord ; and most probably looked upon 
all his whimsical regulations as the established laws of 
honorable housekeeping. 

When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a 
huge silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship, 
which he placed before the squire. Its appearance was 

came the ancient oath, used by Justice Shallow, "by cock and 
pie." 

The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast; 
and Massinger, in his " City Madam," gives some idea of the extrav- 
agance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared for 
the gorgeous revels of the olden times : — 

" Men may talk of Country Christmasses, 

"Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues; 

" Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris; the carcases of three 
fat wethers bruised for gravy to make sauce for a single peacock." 



122 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

hailed with acclamation ; being the Wassail Bowl, so 
renowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had 
been prepared by the squire himself ; for it was a 
beverage in the skilful mixture of which he particularly 
prided himself, alleging that it was too abstruse and 
complex for the comprehension of an ordinary servant. 
It was a potation, indeed, that might well make the 
heart of a toper leap within him ; being composed of the 
richest and raciest wines, highly spiced and sweetened, 
with roasted apples bobbing about the surface. 1 

The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with 
a serene look of indwelling delight, as he stirred this 
mighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a 
hearty wish of a merry Christmas to all present, he sent 
it brimming round the board, for every one to follow his 
example, according to the primitive style ; pronouncing 
it " the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all hearts 
met together." 2 

1 The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of 

wine ; with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crahs : in this 

way the nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families and 

round the hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also 

called Lamb's "Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his " Twelfth 

Night": — 

" Next crowne the bowle full 

With gentle Lamb's Wool; 
Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger 

With store of ale too; 

And thus ye must doe 
To make the Wassaile a swinger." 

2 " The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each 
having his cup. When the steward came to the doore with the 
Wassel, he was to cry three times Wassel, Wassel, Wassel, and then 
the chappell (chaplein) was to answer with a song.'' — Archxologia. 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 123 

There was much laughing and rallying as the honest 
emblem of Christmas joviality circulated, and was kissed 
rather coyly by the ladies. When it reached Master 
Simon, he raised it in both hands, and with the air of a 
boon companion struck up an old Wassail chanson. 

" The brown bowle 
The merry brown bowle, 
As it goes round about-a, 
Fill 
Still, 
Let the world say what it will, 
And drink your fill all out-a. 

The deep canne, 

The merry deep canne, 

As thou dost freely quaff-a, 

Sing 

Fling, 
Be as merry as a king, 
And sound a lusty laugh-a." 1 

Much of the conversation during dinner turned upon 
family topics, to which I was a stranger. There was, 
however, a great deal of rallying of Master Simon about 
some gay widow, with whom he was accused of having 
a flirtation. This attack was commenced by the ladies ; 
but it was continued throughout the dinner by the fat- 
headed old gentleman next the parson, with the perse- 
vering assiduity of a slow hound; being one of those 
long-winded jokers, who, though rather dull at starting 

1 From Poor Robin's Almanac. 



124 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

game, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting it 
down. At every pause in the general conversation, he 
renewed his bantering in pretty much the same terms; 
winking hard at me with both eyes, whenever he gave 
Master Simon what he considered a home thrust. The 
latter, indeed, seemed fond of being teased on the sub- 
ject, as old bachelors are apt to be ; and he took occasion 
to inform me, in an undertone, that the lady in question 
was a prodigiously fine woman, and drove her own 
curricle. 

The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent 
hilarity, and though the old hall may have resounded 
in its time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, 
yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more honest and 
genuine enjoyment. How easy it is for one benevolent 
being to diffuse pleasure around him ; and how truly is a 
kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything in 
its vicinity to freshen into smiles ! The joyous disposition 
of the worthy squire was perfectly contagious ; he was 
happy himself, and disposed to make all the world 
happy ; and the little eccentricities of his humor did but 
season, in a manner, the sweetness of his philanthropy. 

When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as 
usual, became still more animated; many good things 
were broached which had been thought of during dinner, 
but which would not exactly do for a lady's ear ; and 
though I cannot positively affirm that there was much 
wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of 
rare wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a 
mighty tart, pungent ingredient, and much too acid for 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 125 

some stomachs ; but honest good-humor is the oil and 
wine of a merry meeting, and there is no jovial compan- 
ionship equal to that where the jokes are rather small, 
and the laughter abundant. 

The squire told several long stories of early college 
pranks and adventures, in some of which the parson had 
been a sharer ; though in looking at the latter, it required 
some effort of imagination to figure such a little dark anat- 
omy of a man into the perpetrator of a madcap gambol. 
Indeed, the two college chums presented pictures of what 
men may be made by their different lots in life. The 
squire had left the university to live lustily on his pater- 
nal domains, in the vigorous enjoyment of prosperity and 
sunshine, and had flourished on to a hearty and florid 
old age ; whilst the poor parson, on the contrary, had 
dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, in the 
silence and shadows of his study. Still there seemed to 
be a spark of almost extinguished fire feebly glimmer- 
ing in the bottom of his soul ; and as the squire hinted 
at a sly story of the parson and a pretty milkmaid, 
whom they once met on the banks of the Isis, the old 
gentleman made an "alphabet of faces," which, as far 
as I could decipher his physiognomy, I verily believe 
was indicative of laughter; indeed, I have rarely met 
with an old gentleman that took absolute offence at the 
imputed gallantries of his youth. 

I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on 
the dry land of sober judgment. The company grew 
merrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Master 
Simon was in as chirping a humor as a grasshopper filled 



126 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

with dew ; his old songs grew of a warmer complexion, 
and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He even 
gave a long song about the wooing of a widow, which 
he informed me he had gathered from an excellent black- 
letter work, entitled " Cupid's Solicitor for Love/' con- 
taining store of good advice for bachelors, and which he 
promised to lend me. The first verse was to this 
effect : — 

" He that will woo a widow must not dally, 

He must make hay while the sun doth shine ; 
He must not stand with her, shall I, shall I ? 
But boldly say, Widow, thou must be mine." 

This song inspired the fat-headed old gentleman, who 
made several attempts to tell a rather broad story out of 
Joe Miller, that was pat to the purpose ; but he always 
stuck in the middle, everybody recollecting the latter 
part excepting himself. The parson, too, began to show 
the effects of good cheer, having gradually settled down 
into a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on one 
side. Just at this juncture we were summoned to the 
drawing-room, and, I suspect, at the private instigation 
of mine host, whose joviality seemed always tempered 
with a proper love of decorum. 

After the dinner-table was removed, the hall was given 
up to the younger members of the family, who, prompted 
to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master 
Simon, made its old walls ring with their merriment, as 
they played at romping games. I delight in witnessing 
the gambols of children, and particularly at this happy 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 127 

holiday season, and could not help stealing out of the 
drawing-room on hearing one of their peals of laughter. 
I found them at the game of blind-man's-buff. Master 
Simon, who was the leader of their revels, and seemed on 
all occasions to fulfil the office of that ancient potentate, 
the Lord of Misrule, 1 was blinded in the midst of the hall. 
The little beings were as busy about him as the mock 
fairies about Falstaff; pinching him, plucking at the 
skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One fine 
blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all 
in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her 
frock half torn off her shoulders, a complete picture of a 
romp, was the chief tormentor ; and, from the slyness 
with which Master Simon avoided the smaller game, 
and hemmed this wild little nymph in corners, and 
obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs, I suspected 
the rogue of being not a whit more blinded than was 
convenient. 

When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the 
company seated round the fire, listening to the parson, 
who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair, 
the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had 
been brought from the library for his particular accom- 
modation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with 
which his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so ad- 
mirably accorded, he was dealing out strange accounts of 

1 " At Christmasse there was in the Kinge's house, wheresoever 
hee was lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merie disportes, and 
the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or good 
worshippe, were he spirituall or temporall." — Stowk. 



128 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding 
country, with which he had become acquainted in the 
course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined 
to think that the old gentleman was himself somewhat 
tinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be 
who live a recluse and studious life in a sequestered part 
of the country, and pore over black-letter tracts, so often 
filled with the marvellous and supernatural. He gave 
us several anecdotes of the fancies of the neighboring 
peasantry, concerning the effigy of the crusader, which 
lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it was the only 
monument of the kind in that part of the country, it 
had always been regarded with feelings of superstition 
by the good wives of the village. It was said, to get up 
from the tomb and walk the rounds of the churchyard 
in stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and 
one old woman, whose cottage bordered on the church- 
yard, had seen it through the windows of the church, 
when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and down the 
aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left 
unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, 
which kept the spirit in a state of trouble and restless- 
ness. Some talked of gold and jewels buried in the 
tomb, over which the spectre kept watch ; and there was 
a story current of a sexton in old times, who endeavored 
to break his way to the coffin at night, but, just as he 
reached it, received a violent blow from the marble hand 
of the effigy, which stretched him senseless on the pave- 
ment. These tales were often laughed at by some of the 
sturdier among the rustics, yet, when night came on, 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 129 

there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were 
shy of venturing alone in the footpath that led across 
the churchyard. 

From these and other anecdotes that followed, the 
crusader appeared to be the favorite hero of ghost- 
stories throughout the vicinity. His picture, which hung 
up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have 
something supernatural about it ; for they remarked that, 
in whatever part of the hall you went, the eyes of the 
warrior were still fixed on you. The old porter's wife, 
too, at the lodge, who had been born and brought up in 
the family, and was a great gossip among the maid- 
servants, affirmed that in her young days she had often 
heard say, that on Midsummer eve, when it was well 
known all kinds of ghosts, goblins, and fairies become 
visible and walk abroad, the crusader used to mount his 
horse, come down from his picture, ride about the house, 
down the avenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb ; 
on which occasion the church door most civilly swung 
open of itself ; not that he needed it, for he rode through 
closed gates and even stone walls, and had been seen by 
one of the dairy -maids to pass between two bars of the 
great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of 
paper. 

All these superstitions, I found, had been very much 
countenanced by the squire, who, though not supersti- 
tious himself, was very fond of seeing others so. He 
listened to every goblin-tale of the neighboring gossips 
with infinite gravity, and held the porter's wife in high 
favor on account of her talent for the marvellous. He 



130 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

was himself a great reader of old legends and romances, 
and often lamented that he could not believe in them ; 
for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a 
kind of fairy land. 

Whilst we were all attention to the parson's stories, 
our ears were suddenly assailed by a burst of heteroge- 
neous sounds from the hall, in which were mingled 
something like the clang of rude minstrelsy, with the 
uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The 
door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into 
the room that might almost have been mistaken for the 
breaking up of the court of Fairy. That indefatigable 
spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of his 
duties as lord of misrule, had conceived the idea of a 
Christmas mummery or masking ; and having called in 
to his assistance the Oxonian and the young officer, who 
were equally ripe for anything that should occasion 
romping and merriment, they had carried it into instant 
effect. The old housekeeper had been consulted ; the 
antique clothes-presses aud wardrobes rummaged, and 
made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen 
the light for several generations ; the younger part of the 
company had been privately convened from the parlor 
and hall, and the whole had been bedizened out into a 
burlesque imitation of an antique mask. 1 

1 Maskings or mummeries were favorite sports at Christmas in old 
times ; and the wardrobes at halls and manor-houses were often laid 
under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings. I 
strongly suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from 
Ben Jouson's " Masque of Christmas." 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 131 

Master Simon led the van as "Ancient Christmas," 
quaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had 
very much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper's 
petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village 
steeple, and must indubitably have figured in the days 
of the Covenanters. Prom under this his nose curved 
boldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that 
seemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was 
accompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as " Dame 
Mince Pie," in the venerable magnificence of a faded 
brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled 
shoes. The young officer appeared as E'obin Hood, in a 
sporting dress of Kendal green, and a foraging cap with 
a gold tassel. 

The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to 
deep research, and there was an evident eye to the 
picturesque, natural to a young gallant in the presence 
of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a 
pretty rustic dress, as " Maid Marian." The rest of the 
train had been metamorphosed in various ways: the 
girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of 
the Bracebridge line, and the striplings bewhiskered 
with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hang- 
ing sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the 
character of Eoast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other 
worthies celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole 
was under the control of the Oxonian, in the appropriate 
character of Misrule ; and I observed that he exercised 
rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the 
smaller personages of the pageant. 



132 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The irruption of his motley crew, with beat of drum, 
according to ancient custom, was the consummation of 
uproar and merriment. Master Simon covered himself 
with glory by the stateliness with which, as Ancient 
Christinas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though 
giggling, Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance 
of all the characters, which, from its medley of cos- 
tumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had 
skipped down from their frames to join in the sport. 
Different centuries were figuring at cross hands and 
right and left; the dark ages were cutting pirouettes 
and rigadoons ; and the days of Queen Bess jigging 
merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding 
generations. 

The worthy squire contemplated these fantastic sports, 
and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the 
simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling 
and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the 
parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was dis- 
coursing most authentically on the ancient and stately 
dance of the Pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived 
the minuet to be derived. 1 For my part, I was in a 
continual excitement from the various scenes of whim 
and innocent gayety passing before me. It was inspir- 

1 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from 
pavo, a peacock, says, " It is a grave and majestic dance ; the method 
of dancing it anciently was hy gentlemen dressed with caps and 
swords, hy those of the long robe in their gowns, hy the peers in their 
mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion 
whereof in dancing resembled that of a peacock." — History of 
Music, 



THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 133 

ing to see wild-eyed frolic and warm-hearted hospitality 
breaking out from among the chills and glooms of 
winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catch- 
ing once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I 
felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration 
that these fleeting customs were posting fast into ob- 
livion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in 
England in which the whole of them was still punctili- 
ously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled 
with all this revelry, that gave it a peculiar zest : it was 
suited to the time and place ; and as the old manor- 
house almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed 
echoing back the joviality of long departed years. 1 

But enough of Christmas and its gambols ; it is time 
for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the 
questions asked by my graver readers, " To what pur- 
pose is all this ; how is the world to be made wiser by 
this talk ? " Alas ! is there not wisdom enough extant 
for the instruction of the world ? And if not, are there 
not thousands of abler pens laboring for its improve- 
ment ? — It is so much pleasanter to please than to 
instruct, — to play the companion rather than the per- 
ceptor. 

What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could 

1 At the time of the first publication of this paper, the picture of 
an old-fashioned Christmas in the country was pronounced by some 
as out of date. The author had afterwards an opportunity of witness- 
ing almost all the customs above described, existing in unexpected 
vigor in the skirts of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, where he passed the 
Christmas holidays. The reader will find some notice of them in the 
author's account of his sojourn at Newstead Abbey. 



134 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

throw into the mass of knowledge; or how am I sure 
that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the 
opinions of others ? But, in writing to amuse, if I fail, 
the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, 
I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub 
out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the 
heavy heart of one moment of sorrow ; if I can now and 
then penetrate through the gathering film of misan- 
thropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and 
make my reader more in good-humor with his fellow- 
beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have 
written entirely in vain. 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 135 



STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 

Thou soft-flowing Avon, by thy silver stream 

Of things more than mortal sweet Shakspeare would dream ; 

The fairies by moonlight dance round his green bed, 

For hallow'd the turf is which pillow'd his head. 

Garrick. 

To a homeless man, who has no spot on this wide 
world which he can truly call his own, there is a momen- 
tary feeling of something like independence and terri- 
torial consequence, when, after a weary day's travel, he 
kicks off his boots, thrusts his feet into slippers, and 
stretches himself before an inn fire. Let the world 
without go as it may ; let kingdoms rise or fall, so long 
as he has the wherewithal to pay his bill, he is, for the 
time being, the very monarch of all he surveys. The 
armchair is his throne, the poker his sceptre, and the 
little parlor, some twelve feet square, his undisputed 
empire. It is a morsel of certainty, snatched from the 
midst of the uncertainties of life ; it is a sunny moment, 
gleaming out kindly on a cloudy day ; and he who has 
advanced some way on a pilgrimage of existence, knows 
the importance of husbanding even morsels and moments 
of enjoyment. "Shall I not take mine ease in mine 
inn ? " thought I, as I gave the fire a stir, lolled back in 



136 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

my elbow-chair, and cast a complacent look about the 
little parlor of the Red Horse, at Stratford-on-Avon. 

The words of sweet Shakspeare were just passing 
through my mind as the clock struck midnight from the 
tower of the church in which he lies buried. There was 
a gentle tap at the door, and a pretty chambermaid, put- 
ting in her smiling face, inquired, with a hesitating air, 
whether I had rung. I understood it as a modest hint 
that it was time to retire. My dream of absolute domin- 
ion was at an end ; so abdicating my throne, like a pru- 
dent potentate, to avoid being deposed, and putting the 
Stratford G-uide-Book under my arm, as a pillow com- 
panion, I went to bed, and dreamt all night of Shak- 
speare, the jubilee, and David Garrick. 

The next morning was one of those quickening morn- 
ings which we sometimes have in early spring; for it 
was about the middle of March. The chills of a long 
winter had suddenly given way; the north wind had 
spent its last gasp ; and a mild air came stealing from 
the west, breathing the breath of life into nature, and 
wooing every bud and flower to burst forth into fragrance 
and beauty. 

I had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. My 
first visit was to the house where Shakspeare was born, 
and where, according to tradition, he was brought up to 
his father's craft of wool-combing. It is a small, mean- 
looking edifice of wood and plaster, a true nestling-place 
of genius, which seems to delight in hatching its off- 
spring in by-corners. The walls of its squalid chambers 
are covered with names and inscriptions in every Ian- 



S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 137 

guage, by pilgrims of all nations, ranks, and conditions, 
from the prince to the peasant ; and present a simple 
but striking instance of the spontaneous and universal 
homage of mankind to the great poet of nature. 

The house is shown by a garrulous old lady, in a frosty 
red face, lighted up by a cold blue anxious eye, and gar- 
nished with artificial locks of flaxen hair, curling from 
under an exceedingly dirty cap. She was peculiarly 
assiduous in exhibiting the relics with which this, like 
all other celebrated shrines, abounds. There was the 
shattered stock of the very matchlock with which 
Shakspeare shot the deer, on his poaching exploits. 
There, too, was his tobacco-box; which proves that he 
was a rival smoker of Sir Walter Raleigh; the sword 
also with which he played Hamlet ; and the identical 
lantern with which Friar Laurence discovered Romeo 
and Juliet at the tomb ! There was an ample supply 
also of Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, which seems to have 
as extraordinary powers of self-multiplication as the 
wood of the true cross ; of which there is enough extant 
to build a ship of the line. 

The most favorite object of curiosity, however, is 
Shakspeare's chair. It stands in the chimney nook of 
a small gloomy chamber, just behind what was his 
father's shop. Here he may many a time have sat when 
a boy, watching the slowly revolving spit with all the 
longings of an urchin ; or of an evening, listening to the 
cronies and gossips of Stratford, dealing forth church- 
yard tales and legendary anecdotes of the troublesome 
times of England. In this chair it is the custom of 



138 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

every one that visits the house to sit : whether this be 
done with the hope of imbibing any of the inspiration 
of the bard I am at a loss to say, I merely mention the 
fact; and mine hostess privately assured me, that, though 
built of solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees, 
that the chair had to be new bottomed at least once in 
three years. It is worthy of notice also, in the history 
of this extraordinary chair, that it partakes something 
of the volatile nature of the Santa Casa of Loretto, or 
the flying chair of the Arabian enchanter ; for, though 
sold some few years since to a northern princess, yet, 
strange to tell, it has found its way back again to the 
old chimney corner. 

I am always of easy faith in such matters, and am 
ever willing to be deceived, where the deceit is pleasant 
and costs nothing. I am therefore a ready believer in 
relics, legends, and local anecdotes of goblins and great 
men ; and would advise all travellers who travel for their 
gratification to be the same. What is it to us whether 
these stories be true or false, so long as we can persuade 
ourselves into the belief of them, and enjoy all the 
charm of the reality ? There is nothing like resolute 
good-humored credulity in these matters; and on this 
occasion I went even so far as willingly to believe the 
claims of mine hostess to a lineal descent from the poet, 
when, luckily for my faith, she put into my hands a play 
of her own composition, which set all belief in her 
consanguinity at defiance. 

From the birthplace of Shakspeare a few paces 
brought me to his grave. He lies buried in the chancel 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 139 

of the parish, church, a large and venerable pile, moulder- 
ing with age, but richly ornamented. It stands on the 
banks of the Avon, on an embowered point, and separated 
by adjoining gardens from the suburbs of the town. Its 
situation is quiet and retired ; the river runs murmuring 
at the foot of the churchyard, and the elms which grow 
upon its banks droop their branches into its clear bosom. 
An avenue of limes, the boughs of which are curiously 
interlaced, -so as to form in summer an arched way of 
foliage, leads up from the gate of the yard to the church 
porch. The graves are overgrown with grass ; the gray 
tombstones, some of them nearly sunk into the earth, 
are half covered with moss, which has likewise tinted 
the reverend old building. Small birds have built their 
nests among the cornices and fissures of the walls, and 
keep up a continual nutter and chirping ; and rooks are 
sailing and cawing about its lofty gray spire. 

In the course of my rambles I met with the gray-headed 
sexton, Edmonds, and accompanied him home to get the 
key of the church. He had lived in Stratford, man and 
boy, for eighty years, and seemed still to consider him- 
self a vigorous man, with the trivial exception that he 
had nearly lost the use of his legs for a few years past. 
His dwelling was a cottage, looking out upon the Avon 
and its bordering meadows ; and was a picture of that 
neatness, order, and comfort, which pervade the humblest 
dwellings in this country. A low white-washed room, 
with a stone floor carefully scrubbed, served for parlor, 
kitchen, and hall. Rows of pewter and earthen dishes 
glittered along the dresser. On an old oaken table, well 



140 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

rubbed and polished, lay the family Bible and prayer- 
book, and the drawer contained the family library, com- 
posed of about half a score of well-thumbed volumes. 
An ancient clock, that important article of cottage furni- 
ture, ticked on the opposite side of the room; with a 
bright warming-pan hanging on one side of it, and the 
old man's horn-handled Sunday cane on the other. The 
fireplace, as usual, was wide and deep enough to admit a 
gossip knot within its jambs. In one corner sat the old 
man's granddaughter sewing, a pretty blue-eyed girl, — 
and in the opposite corner was a superannuated crony, 
whom he addressed by the name of John Ange, and who, 
I found, had been his companion from childhood. They 
had played together in infancy ; they had worked to- 
gether in manhood ; they were now tottering about and 
gossiping away the evening of life ; and in a short time 
they will probably be buried together in the neighboring 
churchyard. It is not often that we see two streams of 
existence running thus evenly and tranquilly side by 
side ; it is only in such quiet " bosom scenes " of life that 
they are to be met with. 

I had hoped to gather some traditionary anecdotes of 
the bard from these ancient chronicles ; but they had 
nothing new to impart. The long interval during which 
Shakspeare's writing lay in comparative neglect has 
spread its shadow over his history ; and it is his good or 
evil lot that scarcely anything remains to his biographers 
but a scanty handful of conjectures. 

The sexton and his companion had been employed as 
carpenters on the preparations for the celebrated Strat- 



STRA TF011D-0N-A VON. 141 

ford jubilee, and they remembered Garrick, the prime 
mover of the fete, who superintended the arrangements, 
and who, according to the sexton, was "a short punch 
man, very lively and bustling." John Ange had assisted 
also in cutting down Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, of 
which he had a morsel in his pocket for sale j no doubt a 
sovereign quickener of literary conception. 

I was grieved to hear these two worthy wights speak 
very dubiously of the eloquent dame who shows the 
Shakspeare house. John Ange shook his head when I 
mentioned her valuable collection of relics, particularly 
her remains of the mulberry-tree ; and the old sexton 
even expressed a doubt as to Shakspeare having been 
born in her house. I soon discovered that he looked 
upon her mansion with an evil eye, as a rival to the 
poet's tomb; the latter having comparatively but few 
visitors. Thus it is that historians differ at the very out- 
set, and mere pebbles make the stream of truth diverge 
into different channels, even at the fountain-head. 

We approached the church through the avenue of 
limes, and entered by a Gothic porch, highly ornamented, 
with carved doors of massive oak. The interior is 
spacious, and the architecture and embellishments supe- 
rior to those of most country churches. There are 
several ancient monuments of nobility and gentry, over 
some of which hang funeral escutcheons, and banners 
dropping piecemeal from the walls. The tomb of Shak- 
speare is in the chancel. The place is solemn and sepul- 
chral. Tall elms wave before the pointed windows, and 
the Avon, which runs at a short distance from the walls, 



142 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

keeps up a low perpetual murmur. A flat stone marks 
the spot where the bard is buried. There are four lines 
inscribed on it, said to have been written by himself, and 
which have in them something extremely awful. If they 
are indeed his own, they show that solicitude about the 
quiet of the grave, which seems natural to fine sensibili- 
ties and thoughtful minds. 

" Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
To dig the dust enclosed here. 
Blessed be he that spares these stones, 
And curst be he that moves my bones." 

Just over the grave, in a niche of the wall, is a bust of 
Shakspeare, put up shortly after his death, and considered 
as a resemblance. The aspect is pleasant and serene, 
with a finely arched forehead, and I thought I could read 
in it clear indications of that cheerful, social disposition, 
by which he was as much characterized among his con- 
temporaries as by the vastness of his genius. The in- 
scription mentions his age at the time of his decease — 
fifty-three years ; an untimely death for the world : for 
what fruit might not have been expected from the golden 
autumn of such a mind, sheltered as it was from the 
stormy vicissitudes of life, and flourishing in the sun- 
shine of popular and royal favor. 

The inscription on the tombstone has not been without 
its effect. It has prevented the removal of his remains 
from the bosom of his native place to Westminster 
Abbey, which was at one time contemplated. A few 
years since also, as some laborers were digging to make 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 143 

an adjoining vault, the earth caved in, so as to leave a 
vacant space almost like an arch, .through which one 
might have reached into his grave. No one, however, 
presumed to meddle with his remains, so awfully guarded 
by a malediction; and, lest any of the idle or the curious, 
or any collector of relics, should be tempted to commit 
depredations, the old sexton kept watch over the place 
for two days, until the vault was finished and the aper- 
ture closed again. He told me that he had made bold to 
look in at the hole, but could see neither coffin nor bones ; 
nothing but dust. It was something, I thought, to have 
seen the dust of Shakspeare. 

Next to this grave are those of his wife, his favorite 
daughter, Mrs. Hall, and others of his family. On a 
tomb close by, also, is a full-length effigy of his old 
friend John Combe of usurious memory ; on whom he is 
said to have written a ludicrous epitaph. There are 
other monuments around, but the mind refuses to dwell 
on anything that is not connected with Shakspeare. 
His idea pervaded the place ; the whole pile seems but 
as his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and 
thwarted by doubt, here indulge in perfect confidence : 
other traces of him may be false or dubious, but here is 
palpable evidence and absolute certainty. As I trod the 
sounding pavement, there was something intense and 
thrilling in the idea, that, in very truth, the remains of 
Shakspeare were mouldering beneath my feet. It was a 
long time before I could prevail upon myself to leave 
the place; and as I passed through the churchyard, I 
plucked a branch from one of the yew-trees, the only 
relic that I have brought from Stratford. 



144 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

I had now visited the usual objects of a pilgrim's devo- 
tion, but I had a desire to see the old family seat of the 
Lucys, at Charlecot, and to ramble through the park 
where Shakspeare, in company with some of the roysters 
of Stratford, committed his youthful offence of deer- 
stealing. In this hair-brained exploit we are told that 
he was taken prisoner, and carried to the keeper's lodge, 
where he remained all night in doleful captivity. When 
brought into the presence of Sir Thomas Lucy, his treat- 
ment must have been galling and humiliating ; for it so 
wrought upon his spirit as to produce a rough pasqui- 
nade, which was affixed to the park gate at Charlecot. 1 

This flagitious attack upon the dignity of the knight 
so incensed him, that he applied to a lawyer at Warwick 
to put the severity of the laws in force against the 
rhyming deer-stalker. Shakspeare did not wait to brave 
the united puissance of a knight of the shire and a 
country attorney. He forthwith abandoned the pleas- 
ant banks of the Avon and his paternal trade ; wandered 
away to London ; became a hanger-on to the theatres ; 
then an actor ; and, finally, wrote for the stage ; and 
thus, through the persecution of Sir Thomas Lucy, 

1 The following is the only stanza extant of this lampoon : — 

A parliament member, a justice of peace, 
At home a poor scarecrow, at London an asse, 
If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, 
Then Lucy is lowsie, whatever befall it. 

He thinks himself great; 

Yet an asse in his state, 
We allow by his ears but with asses to mate, 
If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, 
Then sing lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. 



S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 145 

Stratford lost an indifferent wool-comber, and the world 
gained an immortal poet. He retained, however, for a 
long time, a sense of the harsh treatment of the Lord of 
Charlecot, and revenged himself in his writings ; but in 
the sportive way of a good-natured mind. Sir Thomas 
is said to be the original Justice Shallow, and the satire 
is slyly fixed upon him by the justice's armorial bear- 
ings, which, like those of the knight, had white luces 1 
in the quarterings. 

Various attempts have been made by his biographers 
to soften and explain away this early transgression of 
the poet ; but I look upon it as one -of those thoughtless 
exploits natural to his situation and turn of mind. 
Shakspeare, when young, had doubtless all the wildness 
and irregularity of an ardent, undisciplined, and undi- 
rected genius. The poetic temperament has naturally 
something in it of the vagabond. When left to itself it 
runs loosely and wildly, and delights in everything eccen- 
tric and licentious. It is often a turn-up of a die, in the 
gambling freaks of fate, whether a natural genius shall 
turn out a great rogue or a great poet ; and had not 
Shakspeare's mind fortunately taken a literary bias, he 
might have as daringly transcended all civil, as he has 
all dramatic laws. 

I have little doubt that, in early life, when running, 
like an unbroken colt ; about the neighborhood of Strat- 
ford, he was to be found in the company of all kinds of 
odd anomalous characters ; that he associated with all 

1 The luce is a pike or jack, and abounds in the Avon about 
Charlecot. 



146 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the madcaps of the place, and was one of those unlucky 
urchins, at mention of whom old men shake their heads, 
and predict that they will one day come to the gallows. 
To him the poaching in Sir Thomas Lucy's park was 
doubtless like a foray to a Scottish knight, and struck 
his eager, and, as yet untamed, imagination, as some- 
thing delightfully adventurous. 1 

1 A proof of Shakspeare's random habits and associates in his 
youthful days may be found in a traditionary anecdote, picked up at 
Stratford by the elder Ireland, and mentioned in his " Picturesque 
Views on the Avon." 

About seven miles from Stratford lies the thirsty little market 
town of Bedford, famous for its ale. Two societies of the village 
yeomanry used to meet, under the appellation of the Bedford topers, 
and to challenge the lovers of good ale of the neighboring villages to 
a contest of drinking. Among others, the people of Stratford were 
called out to prove the strength of their heads ; and in the number of 
the champions was Shakspeare, who, in spite of the proverb that 
"they who drink beer will think beer," was as true to his ale as 
Falstaff to his sack. The chivalry of Stratford was staggered at the 
first onset, and sounded a retreat while they had yet legs to carry 
them off the field. The had scarcely marched a mile when, their 
legs failing them, they were forced to lie down under a crab-tree, 
where they passed the night. It is still standing, and goes by the 
name of Shakspeare's tree. 

In the morning his companions awaked the bard, and proposed 
returning to Bedford, but he declined, saying he had had enough, 
having drank with 

Piping Pebworth, Dancing Marston, 

Haunted Hilbro', Hungry Grafton, 

Dudging Exhall, Papist Wicksford, 

Beggarly Broom, and Drunken Bedford. 

"The villages here alluded to," says Ireland, "still bear the 
epithets thus given them: the people of Pebworth are still famed for 
their skill on the pipe and tabor; Hilborough is now called Haunted 
Hilborough ; and Grafton is famous for the poverty of its soil." 



S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 147 

The old mansion of Gharlecot and its surrounding 
park still remain in the possession of the Lucy family, 
and are peculiarly interesting, from being connected 
with this whimsical but eventful circumstance in the 
scanty history of the bard. As the house stood but 
little more than three miles' distance from Stratford, I 
resolved to pay it a pedestrian visit, that I might stroll 
leisurely through some of those scenes from which 
Shakspeare must have derived his earliest ideas of 
rural imagery. 

The country was yet naked and leafless ; but English 
scenery is always verdant, and the sudden change in the 
temperature of the weather was surprising in its quick- 
ening effects upon the landscape. It was inspiring and 
animating to witness this first awakening of spring ; to 
feel its warm breath stealing over the senses ; to see the 
moist mellow earth beginning to put forth the green 
sprout and the tender blade ; and the trees and shrubs, 
in their reviving tints and bursting buds, giving the 
promise of returning foliage and flower. The cold 
snowdrop, that little borderer on the skirts of winter, 
was to be seen with its chaste white blossoms in the 
small gardens before the cottages. The bleating of the 
new-dropt lambs was faintly heard from the fields. 
The sparrow twittered about the thatched eaves and 
budding hedges ; the robin threw a livelier note into his 
late querulous wintry strain ; and the lark, springing up 
from the reeking bosom of the meadow, towered away 
into the bright fleecy cloud, pouring forth torrents of 
melody. As I watched the little songster, mounting up 



148 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

higher and higher, until his body was a mere speck on 
the white bosom of the cloud, while the ear was still 
filled with his music, it called to mind Shakspeare's 
exquisite little song in Cymbeline : — 

" Hark! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 
And Phoebus 'gins arise, 
His steeds to water at those springs, 
On chaliced flowers that lies. 

And winking mary-buds begin 

To ope their golden eyes ; 
With everything that pretty bin, 

My lady sweet arise ! " 

Indeed the whole country about here is poetic ground : 
everything is associated with the idea of Shakspeare. 
Every old cottage that I saw, I fancied into some resort 
of his boyhood, where he had acquired his intimate 
knowledge of rustic life and manners, and heard those 
legendary tales and wild superstitions which he has 
woven like witchcraft into his dramas. For in his time, 
we are told, it was a popular amusement in winter even- 
ings " to sit round the fire, and tell merry tales of errant 
knights, queens, lovers, lords, ladies, giants, dwarfs, 
thieves, cheaters, witches, fairies, goblins, and friars." x 

1 Scot, in his "Discoverie of Witchcraft," enumerates a host of 
these fireside fancies. " And they have so fraid us with hull-beggars, 
spirits, witches, urchins, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes, 
syrens, kit with the can sticke, tritons, centaurs, dwarfes, giantes, 
imps, calcars, conjurers, nymphes, changelings, incubus, Robin-good- 
fellow, the spoorne, the mare, the man in the oke, the hell-waine, the 
fier drake, the puckle, Tom Thombe, hobgoblins, Tom Tumbler, 
boneless, and such other bugs, that we were afraid of our own 
shadowes." 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 149 

My route for a part of the way lay in sight of the 
Avon, which made a variety of the most fancy doublings 
and windings through a wide and fertile valley ; some- 
times glittering from among willows, which fringed its 
borders ; sometimes disappearing among groves, or be- 
neath green banks ; and sometimes rambling out into 
full view, and making an azure sweep round a slope of 
meadow land. This beautiful bosom of country is called 
the Vale of the Bed Horse. A distant line of undulat- 
ing blue hills seems to be its boundary, whilst all the 
soft intervening landscape lies in a manner enchained in 
the silver links of the Avon. 

After pursuing the road for about three miles, I 
turned off into a footpath which led along the borders 
of fields, and under hedgerows to a private gate of the 
park ; there was a stile, however, for the benefit of the 
pedestrian ; there being a public right of way through 
the grounds. I delight in these hospitable estates, in 
which every one has a kind of property — at least as far 
as the footpath is concerned. It in some measure recon- 
ciles a poor man to his lot, and, what is more, to the 
better lot of his neighbor, thus to have parks and 
pleasure-grounds thrown open for his recreation. He 
breathes the pure air as freely, and lolls as luxuriously 
under the shade, as the lord of the soil ; and if he has 
not the privilege of calling all that he sees his own, he 
has not, at the same time, the trouble of paying for it, 
and keeping it in order. 

I now found myself among noble avenues of oaks and 
elms, whose vast size bespoke the growth of centuries. 



150 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The wind sounded solemnly among their branches, and 
the rooks cawed from their hereditary nests in the tree- 
tops. The eye ranged through a long, lessening vista, 
with nothing to interrupt the view but a distant statue, 
and a vagrant deer stalking like a shadow across the 
opening. 

There is something about these stately old avenues 
that has the effect of Gothic architecture, not merely 
from the pretended similarity of form, but from their 
bearing the evidence of long duration, and of having had 
their origin in a period of time with which we associate 
ideas of romantic grandeur. They betoken also the long- 
settled dignity, and proudly concentrated independence 
of an ancient family; and I have heard a worthy but 
aristocratic old friend observe, when speaking of the 
sumptuous palaces of modern gentry, that "money could 
do much with stone and mortar, but, thank Heaven, 
there was no such thing as suddenly building up an 
avenue of oaks." 

It was from wandering in early life among this rich 
scenery, and about the romantic solitudes of the adjoin- 
ing park of Fullbroke, which then formed a part of the 
Lucy estate, that some of Shakspeare's commentators 
have supposed he derived his noble forest meditations of 
Jaques, and the enchanting woodland pictures in "As 
You Like It." It is in lonely wanderings through such 
scenes, that the mind drinks deep but quiet draughts of 
inspiration, and becomes intensely sensible of the beauty 
and majesty of nature. The imagination kindles into 
revery and rapture ; vague but exquisite images and 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON 151 

ideas keep breaking upon it; and we revel in a mute and 
almost incommunicable luxury of thought. It was in 
some such mood, and perhaps under one of those very- 
trees before me, which threw their broad shades over the 
grassy banks and quivering waters of the Avon, that the 
poet's fancy may Jiave sallied forth into that little song 
which breathes the very soul of a rural voluptuary : — 

" Under the green wood tree, 
Who loves to lie with me, 
And tune his merry throat 
Unto the sweet hird's note, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither. 
Here shall he see 
No enemy, 
But winter and rough weather." 

I had now come in sight of the house. It is a large 
building of brick, with stone quoins, and is in the Gothic 
style of Queen Elizabeth's day, having been built in the 
first year of her reign. The exterior remains very nearly 
in its original state, and may be considered a fair speci- 
men of the residence of a wealthy country gentleman of 
those days. A great gateway opens from the park into a 
kind of courtyard in front of the house, ornamented with 
a grass-plot, shrubs, and flower-beds. The gateway is in 
imitation of the ancient barbacan ; being a kind of out- 
post, and flanked by towers, though evidently for mere 
ornament, instead of defence. The front of the house is 
completely in the old style ; with stone-shafted case- 
ments, a great bow-window of heavy stonework, and a 



152 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

portal with armorial bearings over it, carved in stone. 
At each corner of the building is an octagon tower, sur- 
mounted by a gilt ball and weathercock. 

The Avon, which winds through the park, makes a 
bend just at the foot of a gently sloping bank, which 
sweeps down from the rear of the house. Large herds 
of deer were feeding or reposing upon its borders; and 
swans were sailing majestically upon its bosom. As I 
contemplated the venerable old mansion, I called to mind 
FalstafFs encomium on Justice Shallow's abode, and the 
affected indifference and real vanity of the latter. 

" Falstaff. You have a goodly dwelling and a rich. 
Shallow. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir 
John: — marry, good air." 

Whatever may have been the joviality of the old man- 
sion in the days of Shakspeare, it had now an air of 
stillness and solitude. The great iron gateway that 
opened into the courtyard was locked ; there was no 
show of servants bustling about the place ; the deer 
gazed quietly at me as I passed, being no longer harried 
by the moss-troopers of Stratford. The only sign of 
domestic life that I met with was a white cat, stealing 
with wary look and stealthy pace towards the stables, 
as if on some nefarious expedition. I must not omit to 
mention the carcass of a scoundrel crow which I saw 
suspended against the barn wall, as it shows that the 
Lucys still inherit that lordly abhorrence of poachers, 
and maintain that rigorous exercise of territorial power 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 153 

which was so strenuously manifested in the case of the 
bard. 

After prowling about for some time, I at length found 
my way to a lateral portal, which was the every-day 
entrance to the mansion. I was courteously received by 
a worthy x>ld housekeeper, who, with the civility and 
communicativeness of her order, showed me the interior 
of the house. The greater part has undergone altera- 
tions, and been adapted to modern tastes and modes of 
living ; there is a fine old oaken staircase ; and the great 
hall, that noble feature in an ancient manor-house, still 
retains much of the appearance it must have had in the 
days of Shakspeare. The ceiling is arched and lofty; 
and at one end is a gallery in which stands an organ. 
The weapons and trophies of the chase, which formerly 
adorned the hall of a country gentleman, have made way 
for family portraits. There is a wide hospitable fire- 
place, calculated for an ample old-fashioned wood fire, 
formerly the rallying-place of winter festivity. On the 
opposite side of the hall is the huge Gothic bow-window, 
with stone shafts, which looks out upon the courtyard. 
Here are emblazoned in stained glass the armorial bear- 
ings of the Lucy family for many generations, some 
being dated in 1558. I was delighted to observe in the 
quarterings the three white luces, by which the character 
of Sir Thomas was first identified with that of Justice 
Shallow. They are mentioned in the first scene of the 
" Merry Wives of Windsor," where the Justice is in a 
rage with Fallstaff for having " beaten his men, killed 
his deer, and broken into his lodge." The poet had no 



154 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

doubt the offences of himself and his comrades in mind 
at the time, and we may suppose the family pride and 
vindictive threats of the puissant Shallow to be a carica- 
ture of the pompous indignation of Sir Thomas. 

"Shallow. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star- 
Chamber matter of it ; if he were twenty John Falstaffs, he shall 
not abuse Sir Robert Shallow, Esq. 

Slender. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, and coram. 

Shallow. Ay, Cousin Slender, and custalorum. 

Slender. Ay, and ratalorum too, and a gentleman born, mas- 
ter parson; who writes himself Armigero in any bill, warrant, 
quittance, or obligation, Armigero. 

Shallow. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three 
hundred years. 

Slender. All his successors gone before him have done't, and 
all his ancestors that come after him may; they may give the 
dozen white luces in their coat 

Shallow. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. 

Evans. It is not meet the council hear of a riot ; there is no 
fear of Got in a riot ; the council, hear you, shall desire to hear 
the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot ; take your vizaments in 
that. 

Shallow. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword 
should end it ! " 

Near the window thus emblazoned hung a portrait by 
Sir Peter Lely, of one of the Lucy family, a great beauty 
of the time of Charles the Second: the old housekeeper 
shook her head as she pointed to the picture, and in- 
formed me that this lady had been sadly addicted to 
cards, and had gambled away a great portion of the 
family estate, among which was that part of the park 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 155 

where Shakspeare and his comrades had killed the deer. 
The lands thus lost had not been entirely regained by 
the family even at the present day. It is but justice to 
this recreant dame to confess that she had a surpassingly 
fine hand and arm. 

The picture which most attracted my attention was a 
great painting over the fireplace, containing likenesses 
of Sir Thomas Lucy and his family, who inhabited the 
hall in the latter part of Shakspeare's lifetime. I at 
first thought that it was the vindictive knight himself, 
but the housekeeper assured me that it was his son ; the 
only likeness extant of the former being an effigy upon his 
tomb in the church of the neighboring hamlet of Charle- 
cot. 1 The picture gives a lively idea of the costume and 

1 This effigy is in white marble, and represents the Knight in com- 
plete armor. Near him lies the effigy of his wife, and on her tomb 
is the following inscription; which, if really composed by her hus- 
band, places him quite above the intellectual level of Master 
Shallow : — 

" Here lyeth the Lady Joyce Lucy wife of Sir Thomas Lucy of 
Charlecot in ye county of Warwick, Knight, Daughter and heir of 
Thomas Acton of Sutton in ye county of Worcester Esquire who de- 
parted out of this wretched world to her heavenly kingdom ye 10 day 
of February in ye yea re of our Lord God 1595 and of her age 60 and 
three. All the time of her lyfe a true and faythful servant of her 
good God, never detected of any cryme or vice. In religion most 
sounde, in love to her husband most faythful and true. In friendship 
most constant ; to what in trust was committed unto her most secret. 
In wisdom excelling. In governing of her house, bringing up of 
youth in ye fear of God that did converse with her moste rare and 
singular. A great maintayner of hospitality. Greatly esteemed of her 
betters ; misliked of none unless of the envyous. When all is spoken 
that can be saide a woman so garnished with virtue as not to be bet- 
tered and hardly to be equalled by any. As shee lived most virtuously 
so shee died most Godly. Set downe by him yt best did knowe what 
hath byn written to be true. Thomas Lucye." 



156 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

manners of the time. Sir Thomas is dressed in ruff 
and doublet ; white shoes with roses in them ; and has a 
peaked yellow, or, as Master Slender would say, " a Cain- 
colored beard." His lady is seated on the opposite side 
of the picture, in wide ruff and long stomacher, and the 
children have a most venerable stiffness and formality of 
dress. Hounds and spaniels are mingled in the family 
group ; a hawk is seated on his perch in the foreground, 
and one of the children holds a bow ; — all intimating 
the knight's skill in hunting, hawking, and archery — so 
indispensable to an accomplished gentleman in those 
days. 1 

I regretted to find that the ancient furniture of the 
hall had disappeared ; for I had hoped to meet with the 
stately elbow-chair of carved oak, in which the country 
squire of former days was wont to sway the sceptre of 
empire over his rural domains ; and in which it might be 
presumed the redoubted Sir Thomas sat enthroned in 
awful state when the recreant Shakspeare was brought 
before him. As I like to deck out pictures for my own 

1 Bishop Earle, speaking of the country gentleman of his time, 
observes, " his housekeeping is seen much in the different families of 
dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels ; and the deepness 
of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the 
true burden of nobility, and is exceedingly ambitious to seem de- 
lighted with the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses." And 
Gilpin, in his description of a Mr. Hastings, remarks, " he kept all 
sorts of hounds that run buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had 
hawks of all kinds both long and short winged. His great hall was 
commonly strewed with marrow bones, and full of hawk perches, 
hounds, spaniels, and terriers. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, 
lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels." 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 157 

entertainment, I pleased myself with the idea that this 
very hall had been the scene of the unlucky bard's ex- 
amination on the morning after his captivity in the lodge. 
I fancied to myself the rural potentate, surrounded by 
his body-guard of butler, pages, and blue coated serving- 
men, with their badges ; while the luckless culprit was 
brought in, forlorn and chopfallen, in the custody of 
gamekeepers, huntsmen, and whippers-in, and followed 
by a rabble rout of country clowns. I fancied bright 
faces of curious housemaids peeping from the half- 
opened doors ; while from the gallery the fair daughters 
of the knight leaned gracefully forward, eying the 
youthful prisoner with that pity "that dwells in woman- 
hood." Who would have thought that this poor varlet, 
thus trembling before the brief authority of a country 
squire, and the sport of rustic boors, was soon to become 
the delight of princes, the theme of all tongues and ages, 
the dictator to the human mind, and was to confer im- 
mortality on his oppressor by a caricature and a lampoon ! 
I was now invited by the butler to walk into the gar- 
den, and I felt inclined to visit the orchard and arbor 
where the justice treated Sir John Falstaff and Cousin 
Silence " to a last year's pippin of his own grafting, with 
a dish of caraways ; " but I had already spent so much 
of the day in my ramblings that I was obliged to give up 
any further investigations. When about to take my leave 
I was gratified by the civil entreaties of the housekeeper 
and butler, that I would take some refreshment : an in- 
stance of good old hospitality which, I grieve to say, we 
castle-hunters seldom meet with in modern days. I 



158 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

make no doubt it is a virtue which the present represen- 
tative of the Lucys inherits from his ancestors ; for 
Shakspeare, even in his caricature, makes Justice Shal- 
low importunate in this respect, as witness his pressing 
instances to Falstaff . 

" By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to-night ... I will 
not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not 
be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be 
excused. . . . Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged 
hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell 
William Cook." 

I now bade a reluctant farewell to the old hall. My 
mind had become so completely possessed by the imagi- 
nary scenes and characters connected with it, that I 
seemed to be actually living among them. Everything 
brought them as it were before my eyes ; and, as the 
door of the dining-room opened, I almost expected to 
hear the feeble voice of Master Silence quavering forth 
his favorite ditty : — 

" 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all, 
And welcome merry shrove-tide!" 

On returning to my inn, I could not but reflect on the 
singular gift of the poet ; to be able thus to spread the 
magic of his mind over the very face of nature ; to give 
to things and places a charm and character not their 
own, and to turn this " working-day world " into a per- 
fect fairy land. He is indeed the true enchanter, whose 
spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagi- 



STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 159 

nation and the heart. Under the wizard influence of 
Shakspeare I had been walking all day in a complete de- 
lusion. I had surveyed the landscape through the prism 
of poetry, which tinged every object with the hues of 
the rainbow. I had been surrounded with fancied beings ; 
with mere airy nothings, conjured up by poetic power ; 
yet which, to me, had all the charm of reality. I had 
heard Jaques soliloquize beneath his oak ; had beheld 
the fair Eosalind and her companion adventuring 
through the woodlands ; and, above all, had been once 
more present in spirit with fat Jack Falstaff and his 
contemporaries, from the august Justice Shallow, down 
to the gentle Master Slender and the sweet Anne Page. 
Ten thousand honors and blessings on the bard who has 
thus gilded the dull realities of life with innocent illu- 
sions ; who has spread exquisite and unbought pleasures 
in my checkered path ; and beguiled my spirit in many 
a lonely hour, with all the cordial and cheerful sympa- 
thies of social life ! 

As I crossed the bridge over the Avon on my return, 
I paused to contemplate the distant church in which the 
poet lies buried, and could not but exult in the maledic- 
tion which has kept his ashes undisturbed in its quiet and 
hallowed vaults. What honor could his name have de- 
rived from being mingled in dusty companionship with 
the epitaphs and escutcheons and venal eulogiums of a 
titled multitude? What would a crowded corner in 
Westminster Abbey have been, compared with this rev- 
erend pile, which seemed to stand in beautiful loneliness 
as_ his sole mausoleum ! The solicitude about the grave 



160 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

may be but the offspring of an over-wrought sensibility ; 
but human nature is made up of foibles and prejudices ; 
and its best and tenderest affections are mingled with 
these factitious feelings. He who has sought renown 
about the world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly 
favor, will find, after all, that there is no love, no admi- 
ration, no applause, so sweet to the soul as that which 
springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks 
to be gathered in peace and honor among his kindred 
and his early friends. And when the weary heart and 
failing head begin to warn him that the evening of life 
is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to 
the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the 
scene of his childhood. 

How would it have cheered the spirit of the youthful 
bard when, wandering forth in disgrace upon a doubtful 
world, he cast back a heavy look upon his paternal home, 
could he have foreseen that, before many years, he should 
return to it covered with renown; that his name should 
become the boast and glory of his native place; that his 
ashes should be religiously guarded as its most precious 
treasure ; and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes 
were fixed in tearful contemplation, should one day be- 
come the beacon, towering amidst the gentle landscape, 
to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his tomb ! 



• 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 161 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 

A STAGE-COACH ROMANCE. 

" I'll cross it though it blast me ! " 

Hamlet. 

It was a rainy Sunday in the gloomy month of No- 
vember. I had been detained, in the course of a journey, 
by a slight indisposition, from which I was recover- 
ing ; but was still feverish, and obliged to keep within 
doors all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. A 
wet Sunday in a country inn ! — whoever has had the 
luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation. 
The rain pattered against the casements ; the bells tolled 
for church with a melancholy sound. I went to the 
window in quest of something to amuse the eye ; but it 
seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the 
reach of all amusement. The windows of my bedroom 
looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys, 
while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view 
of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more calculated 
to make a man sick of this world than a stable-yard on 
a rainy day. The place was littered with wet straw that 
had been kicked about by travellers and stable boys. In 
one corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an 
island of muck j there were several half-drowned fowls 



162 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

crowded together under a cart, among which was a miser- 
able, crestfallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit, 
his drooping tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, 
along which the water trickled from his back ; near the 
cart was a half -dozing cow, chewing the cud, and stand- 
ing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapor ris- 
ing from her reeking hide ; a wall-eyed horse, tired of 
the loneliness of the stable, was poking his spectral head 
out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the 
eaves ; an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by, 
uttered something, every now and then, between a bark 
and a yelp; a drab of a kitchen-wench tramped back- 
wards and forwards through the yard in pattens, look- 
ing as sulky as the weather itself ; everything, in short, 
was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hard- 
ened ducks, assembled like boon companions round a 
puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. 

I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. 
My room soon become insupportable. I abandoned it, 
and sought what is technically called the travellers' 
room. This is a public room set apart at most inns for 
the accommodation of a class of wayfarers called travel- 
lers, or riders ; a kind of commercial knights-errant, who 
are incessantly scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horse- 
back, or by coach. They are the only successors that I 
know of at the present day to the knights-errant of yore. 
They lead the same kind of roving, adventurous life, only 
changing the lance for a driving-whip, the buckler for 
a pattern-card, and the coat of mail for an upper Ben- 
jamin. Instead of vindicating the charms of peerless 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 163 

beauty, they rove about, spreading the fame and stand- 
ing of some substantial tradesman, or manufacturer, and 
are ready at any time to bargain in his name; it is be- 
coming the fashion nowadays to trade, instead of fight, 
with one another. As the room of the hostel, in the good 
old fighting times, would be hung round at night with 
the armor of way-worn warriors, such as coats of mail, 
falchions, and yawning helmets, so the travellers' room 
is garnished with the harnessing of their successors, with 
box-coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oilcloth 
covered hats. 

I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to 
talk with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, 
two or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of 
them. One was just finishing his breakfast, quarrelling 
with his bread and butter, and huffing the waiter ; 
another buttoned on a pair of gaiters, with many execra- 
tions at Boots for not having cleaned his shoes well ; a 
third sat drumming on the table with his fingers and 
looking at the rain as it streamed down the window- 
glass ; they all appeared infected by the weather, and 
disappeared, one after the other, without exchanging a 
word. 

I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at the 
people, picking their way to church, with petticoats 
hoisted midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell 
ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then 
amused myself with watching the daughters of a trades- 
man opposite ; who, being confined to the house for fear 
of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their charms 



164 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

at the front windows, to fascinate the chance tenants of 
the inn. They at length were summoned away by a 
vigilant, vinegar-faced mother, and I had nothing further 
from without to amuse me. 

What was I to do to pass away the long-lived day ? 
I was sadly nervous and lonely ; and everything about 
an inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times 
duller. Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco- 
smoke, and which I had already read half a dozen times. 
Good-for-nothing books, that were worse than rainy 
weather. I bored myself to death with an old volume 
of the Lady's Magazine. I read all the commonplace 
names of ambitious travellers scrawled on the panes of 
glass ; the eternal families of the Smiths, and the 
Browns, and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and all 
the other sons ; and I deciphered several scraps of 
fatiguing inn-window poetry which I have met with in 
all parts of the world. 

The day continued lowering and gloomy ; the slovenly, 
ragged, spongy cloud drifted heavily along ; there was 
no variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, 
monotonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that 
now and then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk 
shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a passing 
umbrella. 

It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hack- 
neyed phrase of the day) when, in the course of the 
morning, a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled through 
the street, with outside passengers stuck all over it, 
cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 165 

and reeking with the steams of wet box-coats and upper 
Benjamins. 

The sound brought out from their lurking-places a 
crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the 
carroty-headed hostler, and that nondescript animal 
ycleped Boots, and all the other vagabond race that 
infest the purlieus of an inn ; but the bustle was tran- 
sient ; the coach again whirled on its way ; and boy and 
dog, and hostler and Boots, all slunk back again to their 
holes ; the street again became silent, and the rain con- 
tinued to rain on. In fact, there was no hope of its 
clearing up ; the barometer pointed to rainy weather ; 
mine hostess's tortoise-shell cat sat by the fire washing 
her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears ; and, on 
referring to the almanac, I found a direful prediction 
stretching from the top of the page to the bottom 
through the whole month, " expect — much — rain — 
about — this — time ! " 

I was dreadfully hipped. The hours seemed as if 
they would never creep by. The very ticking of the 
clock became irksome. At length the stillness of the 
house was interrupted by the ringing of a bell. Shortly 
after I heard the voice of a waiter at the bar : " The 
stout gentleman in No. 13 wants his breakfast. Tea 
and bread and butter, with ham and eggs ; the eggs not 
to be too much done." 

In such a situation as mine, every incident is of impor- 
tance. Here was a subject of speculation presented to 
my mind, and ample exercise for my imagination. I am 
prone to paint pictures to myself, and on this occasion I 



166 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

had some materials to work upon. Had the guest up- 
stairs been mentioned as Mr. Smith, or Mr. Brown, or 
Mr. Jackson, or Mr. Johnson, or merely as " the gentle- 
man in No. 13," it would have been a perfect blank to 
me. I should have thought nothing of it; but "The 
stout gentleman ! " — the very name had something in it 
of the picturesque. It at once gave the size ; it embod- 
ied the personage to my mind's eye, and my fancy did 
the rest. 

He was stout, or, as some term it, lusty ; in all proba- 
bility, therefore, he was advanced in life, some people 
expanding as they grow old. By his breakfasting rather 
late, and in his own room, he must be a man accustomed 
to live at his ease, and above the necessity of early 
rising ; no doubt a round, rosy, lusty old gentleman. 

There was another violent ringing. The stout gentle- 
man was impatient for his breakfast. He was evidently 
a man of importance ; " well to do in the world ; " accus- 
tomed to be promptly waited upon ; of a keen appetite, 
and a little cross when hungry ; " perhaps," thought I, 
" he may be some London Alderman ; or who knows but 
he may be a Member of Parliament ? " 

The breakfast was sent up, and there was a short 
interval of silence ; he was, doubtless, making the tea. 
Presently there was a violent ringing ; and before it 
could be answered, another ringing still more violent. 
" Bless me ! what a choleric old gentleman ! " The 
waiter came down in a huff. The butter was rancid, the 
eggs were overdone, the ham was too salt ; — the stout 
gentleman was evidently nice in his eating j one of those 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 167 

who eat and growl, and keep the waiter on the trot, and 
live in a state militant with the household. 

The hostess got into a fume. I should observe that 
she was a brisk, coquettish woman ; a little of a shrew, 
and something of a slammerkin, but very pretty withal ; 
with a nincompoop for a husband, as shrews are apt to 
have. She rated the servants roundly for their negli- 
gence in sending up so bad a breakfast, but said not a 
word against the stout gentleman ; by which I clearly 
perceived that he must be a man of consequence, entitled 
to make a noise and to give trouble at a country inn. 
Other eggs, and ham, and bread and butter were sent up. 
They appeared to be more graciously received ; at least 
there was no further complaint. 

I had not made many turns about the travellers' 
room, when there was another ringing. Shortly after- 
wards there was a stir and an inquest about the house. 
The stout gentleman wanted the Times or the Chron- 
icle newspaper. I set him down, therefore, for a Whig ; 
or rather, from his being so absolute and lordly where 
he had a chance, I suspected him of being a Radical. 
Hunt, I had heard, was a large man ; " who knows," 
thought I, " but it is Hunt himself ! " 

My curiosity began to be awakened. I inquired of the 
waiter who was this stout gentleman that was making 
all this stir ; but I could get no information ; nobody 
seemed to know his name. The landlords of bustling 
inns seldom trouble their heads about the names or occu- 
pations of their transient guests. The color of a coat, 
the shape or size of the person, is enough to suggest a 



168 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

travelling name. It is either the tall gentleman, or the 
short gentleman, or the gentleman in black, or the gen- 
tleman in snuff color ; or, as in the present instance, the 
stout gentleman. A designation of the kind once hit 
on, answers every purpose, and saves all further inquiry • 

Rain — rain — rain ! pitiless, ceaseless rain ! No such 
thing as putting a foot out-of-doors, and no occupation 
nor amusement within. By and by I heard some on© 
walking overhead. It was in the stout gentleman's room. 
He evidently was a large man by the heaviness of his 
tread ; and an old man from his wearing such creaking 
soles. " He is doubtless," thought I, " some rich old 
square-toes of regular habits, and is now taking exercise 
after breakfast." 

I now read all the advertisements of coaches and 
hotels that were stuck about the mantle-piece. The 
Lady's Magazine had become an abomination to me ; it 
was as tedious as the day itself. I wandered out, not 
knowing what to do, and ascended again to my room. 
I had not been there long, when there was a squall from 
a neighboring bedroom. A door opened and slammed 
violently ; a chambermaid, that I had remarked for hav- 
ing a ruddy, good-humored face, went down-stairs in a 
violent flurry. The stout gentleman had been rude to 
her ! 

This sent a whole host of my deductions to the deuce in 
a moment. This unknown personage could not be an old 
gentleman ; for old gentlemen are not apt to be so obstrep- 
erous to chambermaids. He could not be a young gen- 
tleman ; for young gentlemen are not apt to inspire such 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 169 

indignation. He must be a middle-aged man, and con- 
founded ugly into the bargain, or the girl would not have 
taken the matter in such terrible dudgeon. I confess I 
was sorely puzzled. 

In a few minutes I heard the voice of my landlady. I 
caught a glance of her as she came tramping up-stairs, — 
her face glowing, her cap flaring, her tongue wagging the 
whole way. " She'd have no such doings in her house, 
she'd warrant. If gentlemen did spend money freely, it 
was no rule. She'd have no servant-maids of hers treated 
in that way, when they were about their work, that's what 
she wouldn't." 

As I hate squabbles, particularly with women, and 
above all with pretty women, I slunk back into my 
room, and partly closed the door ; but my curiosity 
was too much excited not to listen. The landlady 
marched intrepidly to the enemy's citadel, and entered 
it with a storm ; the door closed after her. I heard her 
voice in high windy clamor for a moment or two. Then 
it gradually subsided, like a gust of wind in a garret ; 
then there was a laugh ; then I heard nothing more. 

After a little while my landlady came out with an odd 
smile on her face, adjusting her cap, which was a little 
on one side. As she went down-stairs, I heard the land- 
lord ask her what was the matter ; she said, " Nothing 
at all, only the girl's a fool." I was more than ever 
perplexed what to make of this unaccountable personage, 
who could put a good-natured chambermaid in a passion, 
and send away a termagant landlady in smiles. He could 
not be so old, nor cross, nor ugly either. 



170 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

I had to go to work at his picture again, and paint him 
entirely different. I now set hirn down for one of those 
stout gentlemen that are frequently met with swagger- 
ing about the doors of country inns. Moist, merry fel- 
lows, in Belcher handkerchiefs, whose bulk is a little as- 
sisted by malt-liquors. Men who have seen the world, 
and been sworn at Highgate; who are used to tavern- 
life ; up to all the tricks of tapsters, and knowing in the 
ways of sinful publicans. Free-livers on a small scale ; 
who are prodigal within the compass of a guinea ; who 
call all the waiters by name, tousle the maids, gossip 
with the landlady at the bar, and prose over a pint of 
port, or a glass of negus, after dinner. 

The morning wore away in forming these and similar 
surmises. As fast as I wove one system of belief, some 
movement of the unknown would completely overturn it, 
and throw all my thoughts again into confusion. Such 
are the solitary operations of a feverish mind. I was, as 
I have said, extremely nervous ; and the continual med- 
itation on the concerns of this invisible personage began 
to have its effect — I was getting a fit of fidgets. 

Dinner-time came. I hoped the stout gentleman might 
dine in the travellers' room, and that I might at length 
get a view of his person ; but no — he had dinner served 
in his own room. What could be the meaning of this 
solitude and mystery ? He could not be a radical ; 
there was something too aristocratical in thus keeping 
himself apart from the rest of the world, and con- 
demning himself to his own dull company throughout 
a rainy day. And then, too, he lived too well for a dis- 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 171 

contented politician. He seemed to expatiate on a va- 
riety of dishes, and to sit over his wine like a jolly friend 
of good living. Indeed, my doubts on this head were 
soon at an end ; for he could not have finished his first 
bottle before I could faintly hear him humming a tune ; 
and on listening I found it to be " God save the King." 
'Twas plain, then, he was no radical, but a faithful sub- 
ject; one who grew loyal over his bottle, and was ready 
to stand by king and constitution, when he could stand 
by nothing else. But who could he be ? My conjec- 
tures began to run wild. Was he not some personage 
of distinction travelling incog. ? " God knows ! " said I, 
at my wit's end ; "it may be one of the royal family for 
aught I know, for they are all stout gentlemen." 

The weather continued rainy. The mysterious un- 
known kept his room, and, as far as I could judge, his 
chair, for I did not hear him move. In the meantime, 
as the day advanced, the travellers' room began to be fre- 
quented. Some, who had just arrived, came in buttoned 
up in box-coats ; others came home who had been dis- 
persed about the town; some took their dinners, and 
some their tea. Had I been in a different mood, I should 
have found entertainment in studying this peculiar class 
of men. There were two especially, who were regular 
wags of the road, and up to all the standing jokes of trav- 
ellers. They had a thousand sly things to say to the 
waiting-maid, whom they called Louisa, and Ethelinda, 
and a dozen other fine names, changing the name every 
time, and chuckling amazingly at their own waggery. 
My mind, however, had been completely engrossed by 



172 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the stout gentleman. He had kept my fancy in chase 
during a long day, and it was not now to be diverted 
from the scent. 

The evening gradually wore away. The travellers 
read the papers two or three times over. Some drew 
round the fire and told long stories about their horses, 
about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings- 
down. They discussed the credit of different merchants 
and different inns ; and the two wags told several choice 
anecdotes of pretty chambermaids and kind landladies. 
All this passed as they were quietly taking what they 
called their night-caps, that is to say, strong glasses of 
brandy and water and sugar, or some other mixture of 
the kind ; after which they one after another rang for 
" Boots " and the chambermaid, and walked off to bed 
in old shoes cut down into marvellously uncomfortable 
slippers. 

There was now only one man left: a short-legged, 
long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large sandy 
head. He sat by himself, with a glass of port-wine 
negus and a spoon; sipping and stirring, and meditating 
and sipping, until nothing was left but the spoon. He 
gradually fell asleep bolt upright in his chair, with the 
empty glass standing before him ; and the candle seemed 
to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long and black, and 
cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that 
remained in the chamber. The gloom that now pre- 
vailed was contagious. Around hung the shapeless, and 
almost spectral, box-coats of departed travellers, long 
since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking of 



THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 173 

the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the sleep- 
ing topers, and the drippings of the rain, drop — drop — 
drop, from the eaves of the house. The church-bells 
chimed midnight. All at once the stout gentleman 
began to walk overhead, pacing slowly backwards and 
forwards. There was something extremely awful in all 
this, especially to one in my state of nerves. These 
ghastly great-coats, these guttural breathings, and the 
creaking footsteps of this mysterious being. His steps 
grew fainter and fainter, and at length died away. I 
could bear it no longer. I was wound up to the despera- 
tion of a hero of romance. "Be he who or what he 
may," said I to myself, "I'll have a sight of him!" I 
seized a chamber-candle, and hurried up to No. 13. The 
door stood ajar. I hesitated — I entered: the room was 
deserted. There stood a large broad-bottomed elbow- 
chair at a table, on which was an empty tumbler and a 
Times newspaper, and the room smelt powerfully of 
Stilton cheese. 

The mysterious stranger had evidently but just retired. 
I turned off, sorely disappointed, to my room, which had 
been changed to the front of the house. As I went 
along the corridor, I saw a large pair of boots, with 
dirty waxed tops, standing at the door of a bed-chamber. 
They doubtless belonged to the unknown ; but it would 
not do to disturb so redoubtable a personage in his den ; 
he might discharge a pistol, or something worse, at my 
head. I went to bed, therefore, and lay awake half the 
night in a terribly nervous state ; and even when I fell 
asleep, I was still haunted in my dreams by the idea of 
the stout gentleman and his wax-topped boots. 



174 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

I slept rather late the next morning, and was awak- 
ened by some stir and bustle in the house which I could 
not at first comprehend; until getting more awake, I 
found there was a mail-coach starting from the door. 
Suddenly there was a cry from below, " The gentleman 
has forgot his umbrella! Look for the gentleman's 
umbrella in No. 13 ! " I heard an immediate scampering 
of a chambermaid along the passage, and a shrill reply 
as she ran, " Here it is ! here's the gentleman's 
umbrella ! " 

The mysterious stranger then was on the point of 
setting off. This was the only chance I should ever 
have of knowing him. I sprang out of bed, scrambled 
to the window, snatched aside the curtains, and just 
caught a glimpse of the rear of a person getting in at 
the coach door. The skirts of a brown coat parted 
behind, and gave me a full view of the broad disk of a 
pair of drab breeches. The door closed — "all right!" 
was the word — the coach whirled off; — and that was 
all I ever saw of the stout gentleman ! 



THE HISTORIAN. 175 



THE HISTOBIAK 

Hermione. Pray you sit by us, 

And tell's a tale. 

Mamilius. Merry or sad shall't be ? 

Hermione. As merry as you will. 

Mamilius. A sad tale's best for winter. 

I have one of sprites and goblins. 

Hermione. Let's have that, sir. 

"Winter's Tale. 

As this is a story-telling age, I have been tempted 
occasionally to give the reader one of the many tales 
served up with supper at the Hall. I might, indeed, 
have furnished a series almost equal in number to the 
" Arabian Nights ; " but some were rather hackneyed and 
tedious ; others I did not feel warranted in betraying 
into print ; and many more were of the old general's 
relating, and turned principally upon tiger-hunting, 
elephant-riding, and Seringapatam, enlivened by the 
wonderful deeds of Tippoo Saib, and the excellent jokes 
of Major Pendergast. 

I had all along maintained a quiet post at a corner of 
the table, where I had been able to indulge my humor 
undisturbed ; listening attentively when the story was 
very good, and dozing a little when it was rather dull, 
which I consider the perfection of auditorship. 

I was roused the other evening from a slight trance, 



176 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

into which I had fallen during one of the general's his- 
tories, by a sudden call from the squire to furnish some 
entertainment of the kind in my turn. Having been so 
profound a listener to others, I could not in conscience 
refuse ; but neither my memory nor invention being 
ready to answer so unexpected a demand, I begged leave 
to read a manuscript tale from the pen of my fellow- 
countryman, the late Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, the 
historian of New York. As this ancient chronicler may 
not be better known to my readers than he was to the 
company at the Hall, a word or two concerning him may 
not be amiss, before proceeding to his manuscript. 

Diedrich Knickerbocker was a native of New York, a 
descendant from one of the ancient Dutch families which 
originally settled that province, and remained there after 
it was taken possession of by the English in 1664. The 
descendants of these Dutch families still remain in vil- 
lages and neighborhoods in various parts of the country, 
retaining, with singular obstinacy, the dresses, manners, 
and even language of their ancestors, and forming a very 
distinct and curious feature in the motley population of 
ths State. In a hamlet whose spire may be seen from 
New York, rising from above the brow of a hill on the 
opposite side of the Hudson, many of the old folks, even 
at the present day, speak English with an accent, and 
the Dominie preaches in Dutch; and so completely is the 
hereditary love of quiet and silence maintained, that, in 
one of these drowsy villages, in the middle of a warm 
summer's day, the buzzing of a stout blue-bottle fly will 
resound from one end of the place to the other. 



THE HISTORIAN. 177 

With the laudable hereditary feeling thus kept up 
among these worthy people, did Mr. Knickerbocker un- 
dertake to write a history of his native city, comprising 
the reign of its three Dutch governors during the time 
that it was yet under the domination of the Hogenmo- 
gens of Holland. In the execution of this design the 
little Dutchman has displayed great historical research, 
and a wonderful consciousness of the dignity of his sub- 
ject. His work, however, has been so little understood* 
as to be pronounced a mere work of humor, satirizing 
the follies of the times, both in politics and morals, and 
giving whimsical views of human nature. 

Be this as it may — among the papers left behind 
him were several tales of a lighter nature, apparently 
thrown together from materials gathered during his pro- 
found researches for his history, and which he seems to 
have cast by with neglect, as unworthy of publication. 
Some of these have fallen into my hands by an accident 
which it is needless at present to mention ; and one of 
these very stories, with its prelude in the words of Mr. 
Knickerbocker, I undertook to read, by way of acquit- 
ting myself of the debt which I owed to the other story- 
tellers at the Hall. I subjoin it for such of my readers 
as are fond of stories. 



178 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 

FROM THE MSS. OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKER- 
BOCKER. 

Formerly almost every place had a house of this kind. If a house 
was seated on some melancholy place, or "built in some old romantic 
manner, or if any particular accident had happened in it, such as mur- 
der, sudden death, or the like, to be sure that house had a mark set 
on it, and was afterwards esteemed the habitation of a ghost. — 
Bourne's Antiquities. 

In the neighborhood of the ancient city of the Man- 
hattoes there stood, not very many years since, an old 
mansion, which, when I was a boy, went by the name of 
the Haunted House. It was one of the very few remains 
of the architecture of the early Dutch settlers, and must 
have been a house of some consequence at the time when 
it was built. It consisted of a centre and two wings, 
the gable ends of which were shaped like stairs. It 
was built partly of wood, and partly of some small Dutch 
bricks, such as the worthy colonists brought with them 
from Holland, before they discovered that bricks could 
be manufactured elsewhere. The house stood remote 
from the road, in the centre of a large field, with an 
avenue of old locust-trees * leading up to it, several of 
which had been shivered by lightning, and two or three 

1 Acacias. 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 179 

blown down. A few apple-trees grew straggling about 
the field; there were traces also of what had been a 
kitchen garden ; but the fences were broken down, the 
vegetables had disappeared, or had grown wild, and 
turned to little better than weeds, with here and there 
a ragged rose-bush, or a tall sunflower shooting up from 
among the brambles, and hanging its head sorrowfully, 
as if contemplating the surrounding desolation. Part of 
the roof of the old house had fallen in, the windows 
^vere shattered, the panels of the doors broken, and 
mended with rough boards, and two rusty weather-cocks 
at the ends of the house made a great jingling and whist- 
ling as they whirled about, but always pointed wrong. 
The appearance of the whole place was forlorn and deso- 
late at the best of times ; but, in unruly weather, the 
howling of the wind about the crazy old mansion, the 
screeching of the weather-cocks, and the slamming and 
banging of a few loose window-shutters, had altogether 
so wild and dreary an effect, that the neighborhood stood 
perfectly in awe of the place, and pronounced it the 
rendezvous of hobgoblins. I recollect the old building 
well ; for many times, when an idle, unlucky urchin, I 
have prowled round its precinct, with some of my grace- 
less companions, on holiday afternoons, when out on a 
freebooting cruise among the orchards. There was a tree 
standing near the house that bore the most beautiful 
and tempting fruit ;| but then it was on enchanted 
ground, for the place was so charmed by frightful stories 
that we dreaded to approach it. Sometimes we would 
venture in a body, and get near the Hesperian tree, keep- 



180 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

ing an eye upon the old mansion, and darting fearful 
glances into its shattered windows ; when, just as we 
were about to seize upon our prize, an exclamation from 
some one of the gang, or an accidental noise, would throw 
us all into a panic, and we would scamper headlong from 
the place, nor stop until we had got quite into the road. 
Then there were sure to be a host of fearful anecdotes 
told of strange cries and groans, or of some hideous face 
suddenly seen staring out of one of the windows. By 
degrees we ceased to venture into these lonely grounds, 
but would stand at a distance, and throw stones at the 
building ; and there was something fearfully pleasing in 
the sound as they rattled along the roof, or sometimes 
struck some jingling fragments of glass out of the 
windows. 

The origin of this house was lost in the obscurity that 
covers the early period of the province, while under the 
government of their high mightinesses the States-General. 
Some reported it to have been a country residence of 
Wilhelmus Kieft, commonly called the Testy, one of the 
Dutch governors of New Amsterdam ; others said it had 
been built by a naval commander who served under Van 
Tromp, and who, on being disappointed of preferment, 
retired from the service in disgust, became a philosopher 
through sheer spite, and brought over all his wealth to 
the province, that he might live according to his humor, 
and despise the world. The reason of its having fallen 
to decay was likewise a matter of dispute ; some said it 
was in chancery, and had already cost more than its 
worth in legal expense ; but the most current, and, of 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 181 

course, the most probable account, was that it was 
haunted, and that nobody could live quietly in it. There 
can, in fact, be very little doubt that this last was the 
case, there were so many corroborating stories to prove 
it, — not an old woman in the neighborhood but could 
furnish at least a score. A grayheaded curmudgeon of 
a negro who lived hard by had a whole budget of them 
to tell, many of which had happened to himself. I 
recollect many a time stopping with my schoolmates, 
and getting him to relate some. The old crone lived in 
a hovel, in the midst of a small patch of potatoes and 
Indian corn, which his master had given him on setting 
him free. He would come to us, with his hoe in his 
hand, and as we sat perched, like a row of swallows, on 
the rail of a fence, in the mellow twilight of a summer 
evening, would tell us such fearful stories, accompanied 
by such awful rollings of his white eyes, that we were 
almost afraid of our own footsteps as we returned home 
afterwards in the dark. 

Poor old Pompey ! many years are past since he died, 
and went to keep company with the ghosts he was so 
fond of talking about. He was buried in a corner of his 
own little potato patch ; the plough soon passed over his 
grave, and levelled it with the rest of the field, and 
nobody thought any more of the grayheaded negro. By 
singular chance I was strolling in that neighborhood, 
several years afterwards, when I had grown up to be a 
young man, and I found a knot of gossips speculating on 
a skull which had just been turned up by a ploughshare. 
They, of course, determined it to be the remains of some 



182 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

one who had been murdered, and they had raked up 
with it some of the traditionary tales of the haunted 
house. I knew it at once to be the relic of poor Pompey, 
but I held my tongue ; for I am too considerate of other 
people's enjoyment even to mar a story of a ghost or a 
murder. I took care, however, to see the bones of my 
old friend once more buried in a place where they were 
not likely to be disturbed. As I sat on the turf and 
watched the interment, I fell into a long conversation 
with an old gentleman of the neighborhood, John Josse 
Vandermoere, a pleasant, gossiping man, whose whole life 
was spent in hearing and telling the news of the prov- 
ince. He recollected old Pompey, and his stories about 
the Haunted House ; but he assured me he could give 
me one still more strange than any that Pompey had re- 
lated ; and on my expressing a great curiosity to hear it, 
he sat down beside me on the turf, and told the follow- 
ing tale. I have endeavored to give it as nearly as pos- 
sible in his words ; but it is now many years since, and 
I am grown old, and my memory is not over-good. I 
cannot therefore vouch for the language, but I am always 
scrupulous as to facts. D. K. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 183 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 

I take the town of concord, where I dwell, 

All Kilborn be my witness, if I were not 

Begot in bashfulness, brought up in shamefacedness. 

Let 'un bring a dog but to my vace that can 

Zay I have beat 'un, and without a vault ; 

Or but a cat will swear upon a book, 

I have as much as zet a vire her tail, 

And I'll give him or her a crown for 'mends. 

Tale of a Tub. 

In the early time of the province of New York, while 
it groaned under the tyranny of the English governor, 
Lord Cornbury, who carried his crnelties towards the 
Dutch inhabitants so far as to allow no Dominie, or 
schoolmaster, to officiate in their language without his 
special license ; about this time there lived in the jolly 
little old city of the Manhattoes a kind motherly dame, 
known by the name of Dame Heyliger. She was the 
widow of a Dutch sea captain, who died suddenly of 
a fever, in consequence of working too hard, and eat- 
ing too heartily, at the time when all the inhabitants 
turned out in a panic, to fortify the place against the 
invasion of a small French privateer. 1 He left her with 
very little money, and one infant son, the only survivor 
of several children. The good woman had need of much 

i 1705. 



184 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

management to make both ends meet, and keep up a 
decent appearance. However, as her husband had fallen 
a victim to his zeal for the public safety, it was univer- 
sally agreed that " something ought to be done for the 
widow ; " and on the hopes of this " something " she 
lived tolerably for some years ; in the meantime every- 
body pitied and spoke well of her, and that helped 
along. 

She lived in a small house, in a small street, called 
Garden Street, very probably from a garden which may 
have flourished there some time or other. As her ne- 
cessities every year grew greater, and the talk of the 
public about doing " something for her " grew less, she 
had to cast about for some mode of doing something for 
herself, by way of helping out her slender means, and 
maintaining her independence, of which she was some- 
what tenacious. 

Living in a mercantile town, she had caught something 
of the spirit, and determined to venture a little in the 
great lottery of commerce. On a sudden, therefore, to 
the great surprise of the street, there appeared at her 
window a grand array of gingerbread kings and queens, 
with their arms stuck akimbo, after the invariable royal 
manner. There were also several broken tumblers, some 
filled with sugar-plums, some with marbles ; there were, 
moreover, cakes of various kinds, and barley-sugar, and 
Holland dolls, and wooden horses with here and there 
gilt-covered picture-books, and now and then a skein of 
thread or a dangling pound of candles. At the door 
of the house sat the good old dame's cat, a decent, de- 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 185 

mure looking personage, who seemed to scan everybody 
that passed, to criticise their dress, and now and then to 
stretch her neck, and to look out with sudden curiosity, 
to see what was going on at the other end of the street ; 
but if by chance an idle vagabond dog came by, and 
offered to be uncivil — hoity-toity ! — how she would 
bristle up, and growl, and spit, and strike out her paws ! 
she was as indignant as ever was an ancient and ugly 
spinster on the approach of some graceless profligate. 

But though the good woman had to come down to 
those humble means of subsistence, yet she still kept up 
a feeling of family pride, being descended from the 
Vanderspiegels, of Amsterdam ; and she had the family 
arms painted and framed, and hung over her mantle- 
piece. She was, in truth, much respected by all the 
poorer people of the place ; her house was quite a resort 
of the old wives of the neighborhood ; they would drop 
in there of a winter's afternoon, as she sat knitting on 
one side of her fireplace, her cat purring on the other, 
and the teakettle singing before it; and they would 
gossip with her until late in the evening. There was 
always an armchair for Peter de Groodt, sometimes called 
Long Peter, and sometimes Peter Longlegs, the clerk 
and sexton of the little Lutheran church, who was her 
great crony, and indeed the oracle of her fireside. Nay, 
the Dominie himself did not disdain, now and then, to 
step in, converse about the state of her mind, and take a 
glass of her special good cherry brandy. Indeed, he 
never failed to call on New Year's Day, and wish her a 
happy New Year ; and the good dame, who was a little 



186 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

vain on some points, always piqued herself on giving 
him as large a cake as any one in town. 

I have said that she had one son. He was the child 
of her old age ; but could hardly be called the comfort, 
for, of all unlucky urchins, Dolph Heyliger was the 
most mischievous. Not that the whipster was really 
vicious ; he was only full of fun and frolic, and had that 
daring, gamesome spirit which is extolled in a rich man's 
child, but execrated in a poor man's. He was continu- 
ally getting into scrapes ; his mother was incessantly 
harassed with complaints of some waggish pranks which 
he had played off ; bills were sent in for windows that 
he had broken ; in a word, he had not reached his four- 
teenth year before he was pronounced, by all the neigh- 
borhood, to be a " wicked dog, the wickedest dog in 
the street ! " Nay, one old gentleman, in a claret-colored 
coat, with a thin red face, and ferret eyes, went so far as 
to assure Dame Heyliger, that her son would, one day or 
other, come to the gallows ! 

Yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor old soul loved 
her boy. It seemed as though she loved him the better 
the worse he behaved, and that he grew more in her 
favor the more he grew out of favor with the world. 
Mothers are foolish, fond-hearted beings ; there's no rea- 
soning them out of their dotage ; and, indeed, this poor 
woman's child was all that was left to love her in this 
world ; so we must not think it hard that she turned a 
deaf ear to her good friends, who sought to prove to her 
that Dolph would come to a halter. 

To do the varlet justice, too, he was strongly attached 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 187 

to his parent. He would not willingly have given her 
pain on any account; and when he had been doing 
wrong, it was but for him to catch his poor mother's eye 
fixed wistfully and sorrowfully upon him, to fill his heart 
with bitterness and contrition. But he was a heedless 
youngster, and could not, for the life of him, resist any 
new temptation to fun and mischief. Though quick at 
his learning, whenever he could be brought to apply 
himself, he was always prone to be led away by idle 
company, and would play truant to hunt after birds'- 
nests, to rob orchards, or to swim in the Hudson. 

In this w r ay he grew up, a tall, lubberly boy ; and his 
mother began to be greatly perplexed what to do with 
him, or how to put him in a way to do for himself ; for 
he had acquired such an unlucky reputation, that no one 
seemed willing to employ him. 

Many were the consultations that she held with Peter 
de Groodt, the clerk and sexton, who was her prime 
counsellor. Peter was as much perplexed as herself, for 
he had no great opinion of the boy, and thought he 
would never come to good. He at once advised her to 
send him to sea: a piece of advice only given in the 
most desperate cases ; but Dame Heyliger would not 
listen to such an idea ; she could not think of letting 
Dolph go out of her sight. She was sitting one day 
knitting by her fireside, in great perplexity, when the 
sexton entered with an air of unusual vivacity and brisk- 
ness. He had just come from a funeral. It had been 
that of a boy of Dolph's years, who had been apprentice 
to a famous German doctor, and had died of a consump- 



188 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

tion. It is true, there had been a whisper that the 
deceased had been brought to his end by being made 
the subject of the doctor's experiments, on which he 
was apt to try the effects of a new compound, or a quiet- 
ing draught. This, however, it is likely, was a mere 
scandal ; at any rate, Peter de Groodt did not think it 
worth mentioning ; though, had we time to philosophize, 
it would be a curious matter for speculation, why a doc- 
tor's family is apt to be so lean and cadaverous, and a 
butcher's so jolly and rubicund. 

Peter de Groodt, as I said before, entered the house of 
Dame Heyliger with unusual alacrity. A bright idea 
had popped into his head at the funeral, over which he 
had chuckled as he shovelled the earth into the grave of 
the doctor's disciple. It had occurred to him, that, as 
the situation of the deceased was vacant at the doctor's, 
it would be the very place for Dolph. The boy had 
parts, and could pound a pestle, and run an errand with 
any boy in the town ; and what more was wanted in a 
student ? 

The suggestion of the sage Peter was a vision of glory 
to the mother. She already saw Dolph, in her mind's 
eye, with a cane at his nose, a knocker at his door, and 
an M.D. at the end of his name — one of the established 
dignitaries of the town. 

The matter, once undertaken, was soon effected; the 
sexton had some influence with the doctor, they having 
had much dealing together in the way of their separate 
professions; and the very next morning he' called and 
conducted the urchin, clad in his Sunday clothes, to 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 189 

undergo the inspection of Dr. Karl Lodovick Knipper- 
hausen. 

They found the doctor seated in an elbow-chair, in one 
corner of his study, or laboratory, with a large volume, 
in German print, before him. He was a short fat man, 
with a dark square face, rendered more dark by a black 
velvet cap. He had a little nobbed nose, not unlike the 
ace of spades, with a pair of spectacles gleaming on each 
side of his dusky countenance, like a couple of bow- 
windows. 

Dolph felt struck with awe on entering into the 
presence of this learned man; and gazed about him 
with boyish wonder at the furniture of this chamber of 
knowledge, which appeared to him almost as the den 
of a magician. In the centre stood a claw-footed table, 
with pestle and mortar, phials and gallipots, and a pair 
of small burnished scales. At one end was a heavy 
clothes-press, turned into a receptacle for drugs and com- 
pounds ; against which hung the doctor's hat and cloak, 
and gold-headed cane, and on the top grinned a human 
skull. Along the mantle-piece were glass vessels, in 
which were snakes and lizards, and a human foetus 
preserved in spirits. A closet, the doors of which were 
taken off, contained three whole shelves of books, and 
some, too, of mighty folio dimensions, — a collection the 
like of which Dolph had never before beheld. As, how- 
ever, the library did not take up the whole of the closet, 
the doctor's thrifty housekeeper had occupied the rest 
with pots of pickles and preserves ; and had hung about 
the room, among awful implements of the healing art, 



190 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

strings of red pepper and corpulent cucumbers, carefully 
preserved for seed. 

Peter de Groodt and his protege were received with 
great gravity and stateliness by the doctor, who was a 
very wise, dignified little man, and never smiled. He 
surveyed Dolph from head to foot, above, and under, and 
through his spectacles, and the poor lad's heart quailed 
as these great glasses glared on him like two full moons. 
The doctor heard all that Peter de Groodt had to say in 
favor of the youthful candidate; and then wetting his 
thumb with the end of his tongue, he began deliberately 
to turn over page after page of the great black volume 
before him. At length, after many hums and haws, and 
strokings of the chin, and all that hesitation and delib- 
eration with which a wise man proceeds to do what he 
intended to do from the very first, the doctor agreed to 
take the lad as a disciple ; to give him bed, board, and 
clothing, and to instruct him in the healing art; in 
return for which he was to have his services until his 
twenty-first year. 

Behold, then, our hero, all at once transformed from 
an unlucky urchin running wild about the streets, to a 
student of medicine, diligently pounding a pestle, under 
the auspices of the learned Dr. Karl Lodovick Knipper- 
hausen. It was a happy transition for his fond old 
mother. She was delighted with the idea of her boy 
being brought up worthy of his ancestors; and antici- 
pated the day when he would be able to hold up his head 
with the lawyer, that lived in the large house opposite ; 
or, peradventure, with the Dominie himself. 



DOLPII HEYLIGER. 191 

Doctor Knipperhausen was a native of the Palatinate 
in Germany; whence, in company with many of his 
countrymen, he had taken refuge in England, on account 
of religious persecution. He was one of nearly three 
thousand Palatines, who came over from England in 
1710, under the protection of Governor Hunter. Where 
the doctor had studied, how he had acquired his medical 
knowledge, and where he had received his diploma, it is 
hard at present to say, for nobody knew at the time; 
yet it is certain that his profound skill and abstruse 
knowledge were the talk and wonder of the common 
people far and near. 

His practice was totally different from that of any 
other physician, — consisting in mysterious compounds, 
known only to himself, in the preparing and administer- 
ing of which, it was said, he always consulted the stars. 
So high an opinion was entertained of his skill, particu- 
larly by the German and Dutch inhabitants, that they 
always resorted to him in desperate cases. He was one 
of those infallible doctors that are always effecting 
sudden and surprising cures, when the patient has been 
given up by all the regular physicians; unless, as is 
shrewdly observed, the case has been left too long before 
it was put into their hands. The doctor's library was 
the talk and marvel of the neighborhood, I might almost 
say of the entire burgh. The good people looked with 
reverence at a man who had read three whole shelves 
full of books, and some of them, too, as large as a family 
Bible. There were many disputes among the members 
of the little Lutheran church, as to which was the wisest 



192 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

man, the doctor or the Dominie. Some of his admirers 
even went so far as to say that he knew more than the 
governor himself, — in a word, it was thought that there 
was no end to his knowledge ! 

No sooner was Dolph received into the doctor's family, 
than he was put in possession of the lodging of his pred- 
ecessor. It was a garret room of a steep-roofed Dutch 
house, where the rain had pattered on the shingles, and 
the lightning gleamed, and the wind piped through the 
crannies in stormy weather ; and where whole troops of 
hungry rats, like Don Cossacks, galloped about, in defi- 
ance of traps and ratsbane. 

He was soon up to his ears in medical studies, being 
employed, morning, noon, and night, in rolling pills, 
filtering tinctures, or pounding the pestle and mortar in 
one corner of the laboratory ; while the doctor would 
take his seat in another corner, when he had nothing 
else to do, or expected visitors, and arrayed in his morn- 
ing-gown and velvet cap, would pore over the contents 
of some folio volume. It is true, that the regular 
thumping of Dolph's pestle, or, perhaps, the drowsy 
buzzing of the summer flies, would now and then lull 
the little man into a slumber; but 'then his spectacles 
were always wide awake, and studiously regarding the 
book. 

There was another personage in the house, however, 
to whom Dolph was obliged to pay allegiance. Though 
a bachelor, and a man of such great dignity and impor- 
tance, the doctor was, like many other wise men, subject 
to petticoat government. He was completely under the 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 193 

sway of his housekeeper, — a spare, busy, fretting house- 
wife, in a little, round, quilted German cap, with a huge 
bunch of keys jingling at the girdle of an exceedingly 
long waist. Frau Use (or Frow Ilsy, as it was pro- 
nounced) had accompanied him in his various migra- 
tions from Germany to England, and from England to 
the province ; managing his establishment and himself 
too : ruling him, it is true, with a gentle hand, but 
carrying a high hand with all the world beside. How 
she had acquired such ascendency, I do not pretend to 
say. People, it is true, did talk — but have not people 
been prone to talk ever since the world began ? Who 
can tell how women generally contrive to get the upper- 
hand? A husband, it is true, may now and then be 
master in his own house ; but who ever knew a bachelor 
that was not managed by his housekeeper ? 

Indeed, Frau Ilsy's power was not confined to the 
doctor's household. She was one of those prying gos- 
sips who know every one's business better than they do 
themselves ; and whose all-seeing eyes, and all-telling 
tongues, are terrors throughout a neighborhood. 

Nothing of any moment transpired in the world of 
scandal of this little burgh, but it was known to Frau 
Ilsy. She had her crew of cronies, that were perpet- 
ually hurrying to her little parlor with some precious 
bit of news ; nay, she would sometimes discuss a Avhole 
volume of secret history, as she held the street-door ajar, 
and gossiped with one of these garrulous cronies in the 
very teeth of a December blast. 

Between the doctor and the housekeeper it may easily 



194 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

be supposed that Dolph had a busy life of it. As Frau 
Ilsy kept the keys, and literally ruled the roast, it was 
starvation to offend her, though he found the study of 
her temper more perplexing even than that of medicine. 
When not busy in the laboratory, she kept him running 
hither and thither on her errands ; and on Sundays he 
was obliged to accompany her to and from church, and 
carry her Bible. Many a time has the poor varlet stood 
shivering and blowing his fingers, or holding his frost- 
bitten nose, in the church-yard, while Ilsy and her cronies 
were huddled together, wagging their heads, and tearing 
some unlucky character to pieces. 

With all his advantages, however, Dolph made very 
slow progress in his art. This was no fault of the doc- 
tor's, certainly, for he took unwearied pains with the 
lad, keeping him close to the pestle and mortar, or on 
the trot about town with phials and pill-boxes : and if 
he ever flagged in his industry, which he was rather apt 
to do, the doctor would fly into a passion, and ask him if 
he ever expected to learn his profession, unless he ap- 
plied himself closer to the study. The fact is, he still 
retained the fondness for sport and mischief that had 
marked his childhood ; the habit, indeed, had strength- 
ened with his years, and gained force from being 
thwarted and constrained. He daily grew more and 
more untraceable, and lost favor in the eyes, both of 
the doctor and the housekeeper. 

In the mean time the doctor went on, waxing wealthy 
and renowned. He was famous for his skill in managing 
cases not laid down in the books. He had cured several 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 195 

old women and young girls of witchcraft, — a terrible 
complaint, and nearly as prevalent in the province in 
those days as hydrophobia is at present. He had even 
restored one strapping country-girl to perfect health, 
who had gone so far as to vomit crooked pins and 
needles : which is considered a desperate stage of the 
malady. It was whispered, also, that he was possessed 
of the art of preparing love-powders ; and many applica- 
tions had he in consequence from love-sick patients of 
both sexes. But all these cases formed the mysterious 
part of his practice, in which, according to the cant 
phrase, "secrecy and honor might be depended on." 
Dolph, therefore, was obliged to turn out of the study 
whenever such consultations occurred, though it is said 
he learnt more of the secrets of the art at the key-hole 
than by all the rest of his studies put together. 

As the doctor increased in wealth, he began to extend 
his possessions, and to look forward, like other great 
men, to the time when he should retire to the repose of 
a country-seat. For this purpose he had purchased a 
farm, or, as the Dutch settlers called it, a bowerie, a few 
miles from town. It had been the residence of a 
wealthy family, that had returned some time since to 
Holland. A large mansion-house stood in the centre of 
it, very much out of repair, and which, in consequence 
of certain reports, had received the appellation of the 
Haunted House. Either from these reports, or from 
its actual dreariness, the doctor found it impossible to 
get a tenant ; and that the place might not fall to ruin 
before he could reside in it himself, he placed a coun- 



196 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

try boor, with his family, in one wing, with the privi- 
lege of cultivating the farm on shares. 

The doctor now felt all the dignity of a' land-holder 
rising within him. He had a little of the German pride 
of territory in his composition, and almost looked npon 
himself as owner of a principality. He began to com- 
plain of the fatigue of business ; and was fond of riding 
out "to look at his estate." His little expeditions to his 
lands were attended with a bustle and parade that cre- 
ated a sensation throughout the neighborhood. His wall- 
eyed horse stood, stamping and whisking off the flies, 
for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's sad- 
dle-bags would be brought out and adjusted ; then, after 
a little while, his cloak would be rolled up and strapped 
to the saddle; then his umbrella would be buckled to 
the cloak ; while, in the mean time, a group of ragged 
boys, that observant class of beings, would gather before 
the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, in a 
pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, and a 
cocked hat napped down in front. As he was a short, 
fat man, he took some time to mount into the saddle ; 
and when there, he took some time to have the saddle 
and stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the wonder and 
admiration of the urchin crowd. Even after he had set 
off, he would pause in the middle of the street, or trot 
back two or three times to give some parting orders ; 
which were answered by the housekeeper from the door, 
or Dolph from the study, or the black cook from the 
cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret-window ; and 
there were generally some last words bawled after him, 
just as he was turning the corner. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 197 

The whole neighborhood would be aroused by this 
pomp and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his 
last ; the barber would thrust out his frizzled head, with 
a comb sticking in it ; a knot would collect at the grocer's 
door, and the word would be buzzed from one end of the 
street to the other, " The doctor's riding out to his 
country-seat ! " 

These were golden moments for Dolph. No sooner 
was the doctor out of sight, than pestle and mortar were 
abandoned ; the laboratory was left to take care of itself, 
and the student was off on some madcap frolic. 

Indeed, it must be confessed, the youngster, as he 
grew up, seemed in a fair way to fulfil the prediction of 
the old claret-colored gentleman. He was the ringleader 
of all holiday sports and midnight gambols ; ready for 
all kinds of mischievous pranks and hair-brained adven- 
tures. 

There is nothing so troublesome as a hero on a small 
scale, or, rather, a hero in a small town. Dolph soon 
became the abhorrence of all drowsy, housekeeping old 
citizens, who hated noise, and had no relish for waggery. 
The good dames, too, considered him as little better than 
a reprobate, gathered their daughters under their wings 
whenever he approached, and pointed him out as a warn- 
ing to their sons. No one seemed to hold him in much 
regard except the wild striplings of the place, who were 
captivated by his open-hearted, daring manners, — and 
the negroes, who always look upon every idle, do- 
nothing youngster as a kind of gentleman. Even the 
good Peter de Groodt, who had considered himself a 



198 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

kind of patron of the lad, began to despair of him ; and 
would shake his head dubiously, as he listened to a long 
complaint from the housekeeper, and sipped a glass of 
her raspberry brandy. 

Still his mother was not to be wearied out of her affec- 
tion by all the waywardness of her boy ; nor disheartened 
by the stories of his misdeeds, with which her good friends 
were continually regaling her. She had, it is true, very 
little of the pleasure which rich people enjoy, in always 
hearing their children praised; but she considered all 
this ill-will as a kind of persecution which he suffered, 
and she liked him the better on that account. She saw 
him growing up a fine, tall, good-looking youngster, and 
she looked at him with the secret pride of a mother's 
heart. It was her great desire that Dolph should appear 
like a gentleman, and all the money she could save went 
towards helping out his pocket and his wardrobe. She 
would look out of the window after him, as he sallied 
forth in his best array, and her heart would yearn with 
delight; and once, when Peter de Groodt, struck with 
the youngster's gallant appearance on a bright Sunday 
morning, observed, "Well, after all, Dolph does grow a 
comely fellow ! " the tear of pride started into the 
mother's eye. " Ah, neighbor ! neighbor ! " exclaimed 
she, " they may say what they please ; poor Dolph will 
yet hold up his head with the best of them ! " 

Dolph Heyliger had now nearly attained his one-and- 
twentieth year, and the term of his medical studies was 
just expiring ; yet it must be confessed that he knew 
little more of the profession than when he first entered 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 199 

the doctor's doors. This, however, could not be from 
any want of quickness of parts, for he showed amazing 
aptness in mastering other branches of knowledge, which 
he could only have studied at intervals. He was, for 
instance, a sure marksman, and won all the geese and 
turkeys at Christmas holidays. He was a bold rider ; he 
was famous for leaping and wrestling ; he played toler- 
ably on the fiddle ; could swim like a fish ; and was the 
best hand in the whole place at fives or ninepins. 

All these accomplishments, however, procured him no 
favor in the eyes of the doctor, who grew more and more 
crabbed and intolerant the nearer the term of apprentice- 
ship approached. Frau Hsy, too, was forever finding 
some occasion to raise a windy tempest about his ears, 
and seldom encountered him about the house without a 
clatter of the tongue ; so that at length the jingling of 
her keys, as she approached, was to Dolph like the ring- 
ing of the prompter's bell, that gives notice of a theatrical 
thunder-storm. Nothing but the infinite good-humor of 
the heedless youngster enabled him to bear all this 
domestic tyranny without open rebellion. It was evi- 
dent that the doctor and his housekeeper were preparing 
to beat the poor youth out of the nest, the moment his 
term should have expired, — a short-hand mode which 
the doctor had of providing for useless disciples. 

Indeed the little man had been rendered more than 
usually irritable lately in consequence of various cares 
and vexations which his country estate had brought 
upon him. The doctor had been repeatedly annoyed by 
the rumors and tales which prevailed concerning the old 



200 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

mansion, and found it difficult to prevail even upon the 
country man and his family to remain there rent-free. 
Every time he rode out to the farm he was teased by 
some fresh complaint of strange noises and fearful 
sights, with which the tenants were disturbed at night ; 
and the doctor would come home fretting and fuming, 
and vent his spleen upon the whole household. It was 
indeed a sore grievance that affected him both in pride 
and purse. He was threatened with an absolute loss 
of the profits of his property ; and then, what a blow to 
his territorial consequence, to be the landlord of a 
haunted house ! 

It was observed, however, that with all his vexation, 
the doctor never proposed to sleep in the house himself ; 
nay, he could never be prevailed upon to remain on the 
premises after dark, but made the best of his way for 
town as soon as the bats began to flit about in the 
twilight. The fact was, the doctor "had a secret belief 
in ghosts, having passed the early part of his life in 
a country where they particularly abound ; and indeed 
the story went, that, when a boy, he had once seen the 
devil upon the Hartz Mountains in Germany. 

At length the doctor's vexations on this head were 
brought to a crisis. One morning as he sat dozing over 
a volume in his study, he was suddenly startled from his 
slumbers by the bustling in of the housekeeper. 

" Here's a fine to do ! " cried she, as she entered the 
room. " Here's Claus Hopper come in, bag and baggage, 
from the farm, and swears he'll have nothing more to do 
with it. The whole family have been frightened out of 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 201 

their wits ; for there's such racketing and rummaging 
about the old house, that they can't sleep quiet in their 
beds!" 

"Donner and blitzeri!" cried the doctor, impatiently; 
" will they never have done chattering about that house ? 
What a pack of fools, to let a few rats and mice frighten 
them out of good quarters ! " 

" Nay, nay," said the housekeeper, wagging her head 
knowingly, and piqued at having a good ghost-story 
doubted, "there's more in it than rats and mice. All 
the neighborhood talks about the house ; and then such 
sights as have been seen in it ! Peter de G-roodt tells 
me, that the family that sold you the house, and went to 
Holland, dropped several strange hints about it, and 
said, 'they wished you joy of your bargain;' and you 
know yourself there's no getting any family to live in 
it." 

"Peter de Groodt's a ninny — an old woman," said the 
doctor, peevishly; "I'll warrant he's been filling these 
people's heads full of stories. It's just like his nonsense 
about the ghost that haunted the church-belfry, as an 
excuse for not ringing the bell that cold night when 
Harmanus BrinkerhofFs house was on fire. Send Claus 
to me." 

Claus Hopper now made his appearance: a simple 
country lout, full of awe at finding himself in the very 
study of Dr. Knipperhausen, and too much embarrassed 
to enter in much detail of the matters that had caused 
his alarm. He stood twirling his hat in one hand, rest- 
ing sometimes on one leg, sometimes on the other, look- 



202 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

ing occasionally at the doctor, and now and then stealing 
a fearful glance at the death's-head that seemed ogling 
him from the top of the clothes-press. 

The doctor tried every means to persuade him to 
return to the farm, but all in vain ; he maintained a 
dogged determination on the subject; and at the close 
of every argument or solicitation would make the same 
brief, inflexible reply, " Ich kan nicht, mynheer." The 
doctor was , a " little pot, and soon hot ; " his patience 
was exhausted by these continual vexations about his 
estate. The stubborn refusal of Claus Hopper seemed 
to him like flat rebellion ; his temper suddenly boiled 
over, and Claus was glad to make a rapid retreat to 
escape scalding. 

When the bumpkin got to the housekeeper's room, he 
found Peter de Groodt, and several other true believers, 
ready to receive him. Here he indemnified himself for 
the restraint he had suffered in the study, and opened a 
budget of stories about the haunted house that aston- 
ished all his hearers. The housekeeper believed them 
all, if it was only to spite the doctor for having received 
her intelligence so uncourteously. Peter de Groodt 
matched them with many a wonderful legend of the 
times of the Dutch dynasty, and of the Devil's Stepping- 
stones ; and of the pirate hanged at Gibbet Island, that 
continued to swing there at night long after the gallows 
was taken down ; and of the ghost of the unfortunate 
Governor Leisler, hanged for treason, which haunted the 
old fort and the government-house. The gossiping knot 
dispersed, each charged with direful intelligence. The 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 203 

sexton disburdened himself at a vestry meeting that was 
held that very day, and the black cook forsook her 
kitchen, and spent half the day at the street pump, that 
gossiping-place of servants, dealing forth the news to all 
that came for water. In a little time the whole town 
was in a buzz with tales about the haunted house. Some 
said that Claus Hopper had seen the devil, while others 
hinted that the house was haunted by the ghosts of 
some of the patients whom the doctor had physicked out 
of the world, and that was the reason why he did not 
venture to live in it himself. 

All this put the little doctor in a terrible fume. He 
threatened vengeance on any one who should affect the 
value of his property by exciting popular prejudices. 
He complained loudly of thus being in a manner dis- 
possessed of his territories by mere bugbears; but he 
secretly determined to have the house exorcised by the 
Dominie. Great was his relief, therefore, when, in the 
midst of his perplexities, Dolph stepped forward and 
undertook to garrison the haunted house. The young- 
ster had been listening to all the stories of Claus Hopper 
and Peter de Groodt : he was fond of adventure, he loved 
the marvellous, and his imagination had become quite 
excited by these tales of wonder. Besides, he had led 
such an uncomfortable life at the doctor's, being sub- 
jected to the intolerable thraldom of early hours, that he 
was delighted at the prospect of having a house to him- 
self, even though it should be a haunted one. His offer 
was eagerly accepted, and it was determined he should 
mount guard that very night. His only stipulation 



204 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

was, that the enterprise should be kept secret from his 
mother; for he knew the poor soul would not sleep a 
wink if she knew her son was waging war with the 
powers of darkness. 

When night came on he set out on this perilous ex- 
pedition. The old black cook, his only friend in the 
household, had provided him with a little mess for sup- 
per, and a rush-light ; and she tied round his neck an amu- 
let, given her by an African conjurer, as a charm against 
evil spirits. Dolph was escorted on his way by the 
doctor and Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to accom- 
pany him to the house, and to see him safe lodged. 
The night was overcast, and it was very dark when they 
arrived at the grounds which- surrounded the mansion. 
The sexton led the way with a lantern. As they walked 
along the avenue of acacias, the fitful light, catching 
from bush to bush, and tree to tree, often startled the 
doughty Peter, and made him fall back upon his fol- 
lowers ; and the doctor grappled still closer hold of 
Dolph's arm, observing that the ground was very slip- 
pery and uneven. At one time they were nearly put 
to total rout by a bat, which came flitting about the 
lantern ; and the notes of the insects from the trees, and 
the frogs from a neighboring pond, formed a most drowsy 
and doleful concert. The front door of the mansion 
opened with a grating sound, that made the doctor turn 
pale. They entered a tolerably large hall, such as is 
common in American country-houses, and which serves 
for a sitting-room in warm weather. From this they 
went up a wide staircase, that groaned and creaked as 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 205 

they trod, every step making its particular note, like 
the key of a harpsichord. This led to another hall on 
the second story, whence they entered the room where 
Dolph was to sleep. It was large, and scantily fur- 
nished ; the shutters were closed ; but as they were 
much broken, there was no want of a circulation of air. 
It appeared to have been that sacred chamber, known 
among Dutch housewives by the name of " the best bed- 
room;" which is the best furnished room in the house, 
but in which scarce anybody is ever permitted to sleep. 
Its splendor, however, was all at an end. There were 
a few broken articles of furniture about the room, and 
in the centre stood a heavy deal table and a large arm- 
chair, both of which had the look of being coeval with 
the mansion. The fireplace was wide, and had been 
faced with Dutch tiles, representing Scripture stories ; 
but some of them had fallen out of their places, and lay 
scattered about the hearth. The sexton lit the rush- 
light ; and the doctor, looking fearfully about the room, 
was just exhorting Dolph to be of good cheer, and to 
pluck up a stout heart, when a noise in the chimney, like 
voices and struggling, struck a sudden panic into the 
sexton. He took to his heels with the lantern ; the 
doctor followed hard after him ; the stairs groaned and 
creaked as they hurried down, increasing their agitation 
and speed by its noises. The front door slammed after 
them ; and Dolph heard them scrabbling down the 
avenue, till the sound of their feet was lost in the dis- 
tance. That he did not join in this precipitate retreat 
might have been owing to his possessing a little more 



206 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

courage than his companions , or perhaps that he had 
caught a glimpse of the cause of their dismay, in a nest 
of chimney-swallows, that came tumbling down into the 
fireplace. 

Being now left to himself, he secured the front door 
by a strong bolt and bar ; and having seen that the other 
entrances were fastened, returned to his desolate cham- 
ber. Having made his supper from the basket which 
the good old cook had provided, he locked the chamber- 
door, and retired to rest on a mattress in one corner. 
The night was calm and still ; and nothing broke upon 
the profound quiet but the lonely chirping of a cricket 
from the chimney of a distant chamber. The rush-light, 
which stood in the centre of the deal table, shed a 
feeble yellow ray, dimly illumining the chamber, and 
making uncouth shapes and shadows on the walls, from 
the clothes which Dolph had thrown over a chair. 

With all his boldness of heart, there was something 
subduing in this desolate scene ; and he felt his spirits 
flag within him, as he lay on his hard bed and gazed 
about the room. He was turning over in his mind his 
idle habits, his doubtful prospects, and now and then 
heaving a heavy sigh as he thought on his poor old 
mother ; for there is nothing like the silence and loneli- 
ness of night to bring dark shadows over the brightest 
mind. By-and-by he thought he heard a sound as of 
some one walking below stairs. He listened, and dis- 
tinctly heard a step on the great staircase. It approached 
solemnly and slowly, tramp — tramp — tramp ! It was 
evidently the tread of some heavy personage ; and yet 



DOLPH HEYL1GER. 207 

how could he have got into the house without making a 
noise ? He had examined all the fastenings, and was 
certain that every entrance was secure. Still the steps 
advanced, tramp — tramp — tramp ! It was evident that 
the person approaching could not be a robber, the step 
was too loud and deliberate ; a robber would either be 
stealthy or precipitate. And now the footsteps had 
ascended the staircase ; they were slowly advancing along 
the passage, resounding through the silent and empty 
apartments. The very cricket had ceased its melancholy 
note, and nothing interrupted their awful distinctness. 
The door, which had been locked on the inside, slowly 
swung open, as if self-moved. The footsteps entered 
the room; but no one was to be seen. They passed 
slowly and audibly across it, tramp — tramp — tramp ! 
but whatever made the sound was invisible. Dolph 
rubbed his eyes, and stared about him ; he could see to 
every part of the dimly lighted chamber ; all was vacant ; 
yet still he heard those mysterious footsteps, solemnly 
walking about the chamber. They ceased, and all was 
dead silence. There was something more appalling in 
this invisible visitation than there would have been 
in anything that addressed itself to the eye-sight. It 
was awfully vague and indefinite. He felt his heart 
beat against his ribs ; a cold sweat broke out upon his 
forehead; he lay for some time in a state of violent 
agitation; nothing, however, occurred to increase his 
alarm. His light gradually burnt down into the socket, 
and he fell asleep. When he awoke it was broad day- 
light ; the sun was peering through the cracks of the win- 



208 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

dow shutters, and the birds were merrily singing about 
the house. The bright cheery day soon put to flight all 
the terrors of the preceding night. Dolph laughed, or 
rather tried to laugh, at all that had passed, and en- 
deavored to persuade himself that it was a mere freak 
of the imagination, conjured up by the stories he had 
heard ; but he was a little puzzled to find the door of 
his room locked on the inside, notwithstanding that he 
had positively seen it swing open as the footsteps had 
entered. He returned to town in a state of considerable 
perplexity ; but he determined to say nothing on the 
subject, until his doubts were either confirmed or re- 
moved by another night's watching. His silence was a 
grievous disappointment to the gossips who had gathered 
at the doctor's mansion. They had prepared their minds 
to hear direful tales, and were almost in a rage at being 
assured he had nothing to relate. 

The next night, then, Dolph repeated his vigil. He 
now entered the house with some trepidation. He was 
particular in examining the fastenings of all the doors, 
and securing them well. He locked the door of his 
chamber, and placed, a chair against it; then having 
despatched his supper, he threw himself on his mattress 
and endeavored to sleep. It was all in vain ; a thousand 
crowding fancies kept him waking. The time slowly 
dragged on, as if minutes were spinning themselves out 
into hours. As the night advanced, he grew more and 
more nervous ; and he almost started from his couch 
when he heard the mysterious footstep again on the 
staircase. Up it came, as before, solemnly and slowly, 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 209 

tramp — tramp — tramp! It approached along the pas- 
sage; the door again swung open, as if there had been 
neither lock nor impediment, and a strange-looking 
figure stalked into the room. It was an elderly man, 
large and robust, clothed in the old Flemish fashion. 
He had on a kind of short cloak, with a garment under it 
belted round the waist; trunk-hose, with great bunches 
or bows at the knees; and a pair of russet boots, very 
large at top, and standing widely from his legs. His 
hat was broad and slouched, with a feather trailing over 
one side. His iron-gray hair hung in thick masses on 
his neck ; and he had a short grizzled beard. He walked 
slowly round the room, as if examining that all was safe ; 
then, hanging his hat on a peg beside the door, he sat 
down in the elbow-chair, and, leaning his elbow on the 
table, fixed his eyes on Dolph with an unmoving and 
deadening stare. 

Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been 
brought up in an implicit belief in ghosts and goblins. 
A thousand stories came swarming to his mind that he 
had heard about this building; and as he looked at this 
strange personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale 
visage, his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fishlike 
eye, his teeth began to chatter, his hair to rise on his 
head, and a cold sweat to break out all over his body. 
How long he remained in this situation he could not tell, 
for he was like one fascinated. He could not take his 
gaze off from the spectre; but lay staring at him, with 
his whole intellect absorbed in the contemplation. The 
old man remained seated behind the table, without 



210 SELECTIONS PtlOM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

stirring, or turning an eye, always keeping a dead steady 
glare upon Dolph. At length the household cock, from 
a neighboring farm, clapped his wings, and gave a loud 
cheerful crow that rung over the fields. At the sound 
the old man slowly rose, and took down his hat from the 
peg; the door opened, and closed after him; he was 
heard to go slowly down the staircase, tramp — tramp — 
tramp ! — and when he had got to the bottom, all was 
again silent. Dolph lay and listened earnestly; counted 
every footfall ; listened, and listened, if the steps should 
return, until, exhausted by watching and agitation, he 
fell into a troubled sleep. 

Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance. 
He would fain have considered all that had passed as a 
mere dream ; yet there stood the chair in which the un- 
known had seated himself ; there was the table on which 
he had leaned ; there was the peg on which he had hung 
his hat ; and there was the door, locked precisely as he 
himself had locked it, with the chair placed against it. 
He hastened down-stairs, and examined the doors and 
windows ; all were exactly in the same state in which he 
had left them, and there was no apparent way by which 
any being could have entered and left the house, without 
leaving some trace behind. " Pooh ! " said Dolph to 
himself, " it was all a dream : " — but it would not do ; 
the more he endeavored to shake the scene off from his 
mind, the more it haunted him. 

Though he persisted in a strict silence as to all that 
he had seen or heard, yet his looks betrayed the uncom- 
fortable night that he had passed. It was evident that 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 211 

there was something wonderful hidden under this myste- 
rious reserve. The doctor took him into the study, 
locked the door, and sought to have a full and confiden- 
tial communication ; but he could get nothing out of him. 
Frau Ilsy took him aside into the pantry, but to as little 
purpose ; and Peter de Groodt held him by the button 
for a full hour, in the church-yard, the very place to get 
at the bottom of a ghost story, but came off not a whit 
wiser than the rest. It is always the case, however, that 
one truth concealed makes a dozen current lies. It is 
like a guinea locked up in a bank, that has a dozen 
paper representatives. Before the day was over, the 
neighborhood was full of reports. Some said that Dolph 
Heyliger watched in the haunted house, with pistols 
loaded with silver bullets ; others, that he had a long 
talk with a spectre without a head ; others, that Doctor 
Knipperhausen and the sexton had been hunted down 
the Bowery lane, and quite into town, by a legion of 
ghosts of their customers. Some shook their heads, and 
thought it a shame the doctor should put Dolph to pass 
the night alone in that dismal house, where he might 
be spirited away no one knew whither ; while others 
observed, with a shrug, that if the devil did carry off the 
youngster, it would be but taking his own. 

These rumors at length reached the ears of the good 
Dame Heyliger, and, as may be supposed, threw her into 
a terrible alarm. For her son to have opposed himself 
to danger from living foes, would have been nothing so 
dreadful in her eyes, as to dare alone the terrors of the 
haunted house. She hastened to the doctor's, and passed 



212 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

a great part of the day in attempting to dissuade Dolph 
from repeating his vigil ; she told him a score of tales, 
which her gossiping friends had just related to her, of 
persons who had been carried off, when watching alone 
in old ruinous houses. It was all to no effect. Dolph's 
pride, as well as curiosity, was piqued. He endeavored 
to calm the apprehensions of his mother, and to assure 
her that there was no truth in all the rumors she had 
heard; she looked at him dubiously and shook her head ; 
but finding his determination was not to be shaken, she 
brought him a little thick Dutch Bible, with brass clasps, 
to take with him, as a sword wherewith to fight the 
powers of darkness; and, lest that might not be suffi- 
cient, the housekeeper gave him the Heidelberg cate- 
chism by way of dagger. 

The next night, therefore, Dolph took up his quarters 
for the third time in the old mansion. Whether dream 
or not, the same thing was repeated. Towards mid- 
night, when everything was still, the same sound echoed 
through the empty halls, tramp — tramp — tramp ! The 
stairs were again ascended ; the door again swung open ; 
the old man entered ; walked round the room ; hung up 
his hat, and seated himself by the table. The same fear 
and trembling came over poor Dolph, though not in so 
violent a degree. He lay in the same way, motionless 
and fascinated, staring at the figure, which regarded 
him as before, with a dead, fixed, chilling gaze. In this 
way they remained for a long time, till, by degrees, 
Dolph's courage began gradually to revive. Whether 
alive or dead, this being had certainly some object in 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 213 

his visitation ; and he recollected to have heard it 
said, spirits have no power to speak until spoken to. 
Summoning up resolution, therefore, and making two or 
three attempts, before he could get his parched tongue 
in motion, he addressed the unknown in the most solemn 
form of adjuration, and demanded to know what was 
the motive of his visit. 

No sooner had he finished, than the old man rose, took 
down his hat, the door opened, and he went out, looking 
back upon Dolph just as he crossed the threshold, as if 
expecting him to follow. The youngster did not hesitate 
an instant. He took the candle in his hand, and the 
Bible under his arm, and obeyed the tacit invitation. 
The candle emitted a feeble, uncertain ray, but still he 
could see the figure before him slowly descend the stairs. 
He followed trembling. When it had reached the bot- 
tom of the stairs, it turned through the hall towards the 
back door of the mansion. Dolph held the light over 
the balustrades ; but, in his eagerness to catch a sight of 
the unknown, he flared his feeble taper so suddenly, that 
it went out. Still there was sufficient light from the 
pale moonbeams, that fell through a narrow window, to 
give him an indistinct view of the figure, near the door. 
He followed, therefore, down stairs, and turned towards 
the place ; but when he arrived there, the unknown had 
disappeared. The door remained fast barred and bolted ; 
there was no other mode of exit ; yet the being, what- 
ever he might be, was gone. He unfastened the door, 
and looked out into the fields. It was a hazy, moonlight 
night, so that the eye could distinguish objects at some 



214 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

distance. He thought he saw the unknown in a foot- 
path which led from the door. He was not mistaken ; 
but how had he got out of the house ? He did not pause 
to think, but followed on. The old man proceeded at 
a measured pace, without looking about him, his foot- 
steps sounding on the hard ground. He passed through 
the orchard of apple-trees, always keeping the footpath. 
It led to a well, situated in a little hollow, which had 
supplied the farm with water. Just at this well Dolph 
lost sight of him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again ; 
but nothing was to be seen of the unknown. He 
reached the well, but nobody was there. All the sur- 
rounding ground was open and clear ; there was no bush 
nor hiding-place. He looked down the well, and saw, at 
a great depth, the reflection of the sky in the still water. 
After remaining here for some time, without seeing or 
hearing anything more of his mysterious conductor, he 
returned to the house, full of awe and wonder. He 
bolted the door, groped his way back to bed, and it was 
long before he could compose himself to sleep. 

His dream were strange and troubled. He thought 
he was following the old man along the side of a great 
river, until they came to a vessel on the point of sailing; 
and that his conductor led him on board and vanished. 
He remembered the commander of the vessel, a short, 
swarthy man, with crisped, black hair, blind of one 
eye, and lame of one leg ; but the rest of his dream was 
very confused. Sometimes he was sailing ; sometimes on 
shore ; now amidst storms and tempests, and now wan- 
dering quietly in unknown streets. The figure of the 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 215 

old man was strangely mingled up with the incidents 
of the dream, and the whole distinctly wound up by his 
finding himself on board of the vessel again, returning 
home, with a great bag of money ! 

When he woke, the gray, cool light of dawn was streak- 
ing the horizon, and the cocks passing the reveille from 
farm to farm throughout the country. He rose more 
harassed and perplexed than ever. He was singularly 
confounded by all that he had seen and dreamt, and be- 
gan to doubt whether his mind was not affected, and 
whether all that was passing in his thoughts might not be 
mere feverish fantasy. In his present sta.te of mind, he 
did not feel disposed to return immediately to the doc- 
tor's, and undergo the cross-questioning of the household. 
He made a scanty breakfast, therefore, on the remains 
of the last night's provisions, and then wandered out 
into the fields to meditate on all that had befallen him. 
Lost in thought, he rambled about, gradually approach- 
ing the town, until the morning was far advanced, when 
he was roused by a hurry and bustle around him. He 
found himself near the water's edge, in a throng of 
people, hurrying to a pier, where was a vessel ready to 
make sail. He was unconsciously carried along by the 
impulse of the crowd, and found that it was a sloop, on 
the point of sailing up the Hudson to Albany. There 
was much leave-taking, and kissing of old women and 
children, and great activity in carrying on board baskets 
of bread and cakes, and provisions of all kinds, notwith- 
standing the mighty joints of meat that dangled over 
the stern ; for a voyage to Albany was an expedition of 



216 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

great moment in those days. The commander of the 
sloop was hurrying about, and giving a world of orders, 
which were not very strictly attended to ; one man being 
busy in lighting his pipe, and another in sharpening his 
snicker-snee. 

The appearance of the commander suddenly caught 
Dolph's attention. He was short and swarthy, with 
crisped black hair ; blind of one eye and lame of one 
leg — the very commander that he had seen in his dream ! 
Surprised and aroused, he considered the scene more 
attentively, and recalled still further traces of his dream : 
the appearanpe of the vessel, of the river, and of a va- 
riety of other objects accorded with the imperfect images 
vaguely rising to recollection. 

As he stood musing on these circumstances, the captain 
suddenly called out to him in Dutch, " Step on board, 
young man, or you'll be left behind ! " He was startled 
by the summons ; he saw that the sloop was cast loose, 
and was actually moving from the pier ; it seemed as if 
he was actuated by some irresistible impulse; he sprang 
upon the deck, and the next moment the sloop was 
hurried off by the wind and tide. Dolph's thoughts and 
feelings were in tumult and confusion. He had been 
strongly worked upon by the events which had recently 
befallen him, and could not but think there was some 
connection between his present situation and his last 
night's dream. He felt as if under supernatural influ- 
ence ; and tried to assure himself with an old and 
favorite maxim of his, that " one way or other all would 
turn out for the best." For a moment, the indignation 



DO LP II HEYLIGER. 217 

of the doctor at his departure, without leave, passed 
across his mind, but that was matter of little moment; 
then he thought of the distress of his mother at his 
strange disappearance, and the idea gave him a sudden 
pang ; he would have entreated to be put on shore, but he 
knew with such wind and tide the entreaty would have 
been in Vain. Then the inspiring love of novelty and 
adventure came rushing in full tide through his bosom ; 
he felt himself launched strangely and suddenly on the 
world, and under full way to explore the regions of 
wonder that lay up this mighty river, and beyond those 
blue mountains which had bounded his horizon since 
childhood. While he was lost in this whirl of thought, 
the sails strained to the breeze ; the shores seemed to 
hurry away behind him ; and before he perfectly re- 
covered his self-possession, the sloop was ploughing her 
way past Spiking-devil and Yonkers, and the tallest 
chimney of the Manhattoes had faded from his sight. 

I have said that a voyage up the Hudson in those 
days was an undertaking of some moment ; indeed, it 
was as much thought of as a voyage to Europe is at 
present. The sloops were often many days on the way ; 
the cautious navigators taking in sail when it blew fresh, 
and coming to anchor at night ; and stopping to send the 
boat ashore for milk for tea, without which it was im- 
possible for the worthy old lady passengers to subsist. 
And there were the much-talked-of perils of the Tap- 
paan Zee, and the highlands. In short, a prudent Dutch 
burgher would talk of such a voyage for months, and 
even years, beforehand, and never undertook it without 



218 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

putting his affairs in order, making his will, and having 
prayers said for him in the Low Dutch churches. 

In the course of such a voyage, therefore, Dolph was 
satisfied he would have time enough to reflect, and to 
make up his mind as to what he should do when he 
arrived at Albany. The captain, with his blind eye, and 
lame leg, would, it is true, bring his strange dream to 
mind, and perplex him sadly for a few moments ; but of 
late his life had been made up so much of dreams and 
realities, his nights and days had been so jumbled to- 
gether, that he seemed to be moving continually in a de- 
lusion. There is always, however, a kind of vagabond 
consolation in a man's having nothing in this world to 
lose ; with this Dolph comforted his heart, and deter- 
mined to make the most of the present enjoyment. 

In the second day of the voyage they came to the 
highlands. It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day, 
that they floated gently with the tide between these stern 
mountains. There was that perfect quiet which prevails 
over nature in the languor of summer heat ; the turning 
of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar on deck, 
was echoed from the mountain-side and reverberated 
along the shores ; and if by chance the captain gave a 
shout of command, there were airy tongues which mocked 
it from every cliff. 

Dolph gazed about him in mute delight and wonder at 
these scenes of nature's magnificence. To the left the 
Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over 
height, forest over forest, away into the deep summer 
sky. To the right strutted forth the bold promontory of 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 219 

Antony's Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it ; 
while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until 
they seemed to lock their arms together, and confine this 
mighty river in their embraces. There was a feeling of 
quiet luxury in gazing at the broad, green bosoms here 
and there scooped out among the precipices ; or at wood- 
lands high in air, nodding over the edge of some beetling 
bluff, and their foliage all transparent in the yellow 
sunshine. 

In the midst of his admiration, Dolph remarked a pile 
of bright, snowy clouds, peering above the western 
heights. It was succeeded by another, and another, each 
seemingly pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering, 
with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep-blue atmosphere ; 
and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard 
rolling behind the mountains. The river, hitherto still 
and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now 
showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the breeze came 
creeping up it. The fish-hawks wheeled and screamed, 
and sought their nests on the high dry trees ; the crows 
flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks, and all 
nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder- 
gust. 

The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain- 
tops ; their summits still bright and snowy, but the lower 
parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter 
down in broad and scattered drops ; the wind freshened, 
and curled up the waves ; at length it seemed as if the 
bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain-tops, and 
complete torrents of rain came rattling down. The 



220 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed 
quivering against the rocks, splitting and rending the 
stoutest forest-trees. The thunder burst in tremendous 
explosions ; the peals were echoed from mountain to 
mountain ; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and rolled up 
the long defile of the highlands, each headland making a 
new echo, until old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the 
storm. 

For a time the scudding rack and mist, and the 
sheeted rain, almost hid the landscape from the sight. 
There was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully 
by the streams of lightning which glittered among the 
rain-drops. Never had Dolph beheld such an absolute 
warring of the elements ; it seemed as if the storm was 
tearing and rending its way through this mountain defile, 
and had brought all the artillery of heaven into action. 

The vessel was hurried on by the increasing wind, 
until she came to where the river makes a sudden bend, 
the only one in the whole course of its majestic career. 1 
Just as they turned the point, a violent flaw of wind 
came sweeping down a mountain gully, bending the 
forest before it, and, in a moment, lashing up the river 
into white froth and foam. The captain saw the danger, 
and cried out to lower the sail. Before the order could 
be obeyed, the flaw struck the sloop, and threw her on 
her beam ends. Everything now was fright and confu- 
sion : the flapping of the sails, the whistling and rushing 
of the wind, the bawling of the captain and crew, the 
shrieking of the passengers, all mingled with the rolling 
1 This must have been the bend at West Point. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 221 

and bellowing of the thnnder. In the midst of the 
nproar the sloop righted ; at the same time the mainsail 
shifted, the boom came sweeping the quarter-deck, and 
Dolph, who was gazing unguardedly at the clouds, found 
himself, in a moment, floundering in the river. 

For once in his life one of his idle accomplishments 
was of use to him. The many truant hours he had 
devoted to sporting in the Hudson had made him an 
expert swimmer ; yet with all his strength and skill he 
found great difficulty in reaching the shore. His disap- 
pearance from the deck had not been noticed by the crew, 
who were all occupied by their own danger. The sloop 
was driven along with inconceivable rapidity. She had 
hard work to weather a long promontory on the eastern 
shore, round which the river turned, and which com- 
pletely shut her from Dolph's view. 

It was on a point of the western shore that he landed, 
and, scrambling up the rocks, threw himself, faint and 
exhausted, at the foot of a tree. By degrees the thunder 
gust passed over. The clouds rolled away to the east, 
where they lay piled in feathery masses, tinted with the 
last rosy rays of the sun. The distant play of the light- 
ning might be seen about the dark bases, and now and 
then might be heard the faint muttering of the thunder. 
Dolph rose, and sought about to see if any path led from 
the shore, but all was savage and trackless. The rocks 
were piled upon each other ; great trunks of trees lay 
shattered about, as they had been blown down by the 
strong winds which draw through these mountains, or 
had fallen through age. The rocks, too, were overhung 



222 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

with wild vines and briers, which completely matted 
themselves together, and opposed a barrier to all ingress ; 
every movement that he made shook down a shower 
from the dripping foliage. He attempted to scale one 
of these almost perpendicular heights ; but, though 
strong and agile, he found it a Herculean undertaking. 
Often he was supported merely by crumbling projections 
of the rock, and sometimes he clung to roots and 
branches of trees, and hung almost suspended in the air. 
The wood-pigeon came cleaving his whistling flight by 
him, and the eagle screamed from the brow of the im- 
pending cliff. As he was thus clambering, he was on 
the point of seizing hold of a shrub to aid his ascent, 
when something rustled among the leaves, and he saw a 
snake quivering along like lightning, almost from under 
his hand. It coiled itself up immediately, in an attitude 
of defiance, with flattened head, distended jaws, and 
quickly vibrating tongue, that played like a little flame 
about its mouth. Dolph's heart turned faint within 
him, and he had wellnigh let go his hold and tumbled 
down the precipice. The serpent stood on the defensive 
but for an instant; and finding there was no attack, 
glided away into a cleft of the rock. Dolph's eye fol- 
lowed it with fearful intensity, and saw a nest of adders, 
knotted, and writhing, and hissing in the chasm. He 
hastened with all speed from so frightful a neighbor- 
hood. His imagination, full of this new horror, saw an 
adder in every curling vine, and heard the tail of a 
rattlesnake in every dry leaf that rustled. 

At length he succeeded in scrambling to the summit 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 223 

of a precipice ; but it was covered by a dense forest. 
Wherever lie could gain a lookout between the trees, he 
beheld heights and cliffs, one rising beyond another, 
until huge mountains overtopped the whole. There 
were no signs of cultivation ; no smoke curling among 
the trees to indicate a human residence. Everything 
was wild and solitary. As he was standing on the edge 
of a precipice overlooking a deep ravine fringed with 
trees, his feet detached a great fragment of rock ; it 
fell, crashing its way through the treetops, down into 
the chasm. A loud whoop, or rather yell, issued from 
the bottom of the glen ; the moment after there was the 
report of a gun ; and a ball came whistling over his 
head, cutting the twigs and leaves, and burying itself 
deep in the bark of a chestnut-tree. 

Dolph did not wait for a second shot, but made a 
precipitate retreat; fearing every moment to hear the 
enemy in pursuit. He succeeded, however, in returning 
unmolested to the shore, and determined to penetrate no 
farther into a country so beset with savage perils. 

He sat himself down, dripping, disconsolately, on a 
stone. What was to be done ? where was he to shelter 
himself? The hour of repose was approaching: the 
birds were seeking their nests, the bat began to flit 
about in the twilight, and the night-hawk, soaring high 
in the heaven, seemed to be calling out the stars. Night 
gradually closed in, and wrapped everything in gloom ; 
and though it was the latter part of summer, the breeze 
stealing along the river, and among these dripping 
forests, was chilling and penetrating, especially to a 
half-drowned man. 



224 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

As he sat drooping and despondent in this comfortless 
condition, he perceived a light gleaming through the 
trees near the shore, where the winding of the river made 
a deep bay. It cheered him with the hope of a human 
habitation, where he might get something to appease the 
clamorous cravings' of his stomach, and what was equally 
necessary in his shipwrecked condition, a comfortable 
shelter for the night. With extreme difficulty he made 
his way toward the light, along ledges of rocks, down 
which he was in danger of sliding into the river, and 
over great trunks of fallen trees, some of which had 
been blown down in the late storm, and lay so thickly 
together that he had to struggle through their branches. 
At length he came to the brow of a rock over-hanging 
a small dell, whence the light proceeded. It was from 
a fire at the foot of a great tree in the midst of a grassy 
interval or plat among the rocks. The fire cast up a red 
glare among the gray crags, and impending trees ; leav- 
ing chasms of deep gloom, that resembled entrances to 
caverns. A small brook rippled close by, betrayed by 
the quivering reflection of the flame. There were two 
figures moving about the fire, and others squatted before 
it. As they were between him and the light, they were 
in complete shadow ; but one of them happening to move 
round to the opposite side, Dolph was startled at per- 
ceiving, by the glare falling on painted features, and 
glittering on silver ornaments that he was an Indian. 
He now looked more narrowly, and saw guns leaning 
against a tree, and a dead body lying on the ground. 
Here was the very foe that had fired at him from the 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 225 

glen. He endeavored to retreat quietly, not caring to 
intrust himself to these half-human beings in so savage 
and lonely a place. It was too late : the Indian, with 
that eagle quickness of eye so remarkable in his race, 
perceived something stirring among the bushes on the 
rock : he seized one of the guns that leaned against the 
tree ; one moment more, and Dolph might have had his 
passion for adventure cured by a bullet. He halloed 
loudly, with the Indian salutation of friendship; the 
whole party sprang upon their feet ; the salutation was 
returned, and the straggler was invited to join them at 
the fire. 

On approaching, he found, to his consolation, the party 
was composed of white men, as well as Indians. One, 
evidently the principal personage, or commander, was 
seated on a trunk of a tree before the fire. He was a 
large, stout man, somewhat advanced in life, but hale 
and hearty. His face was bronzed almost to the color 
of an Indian's; he had strong but rather jovial features, 
an aquiline nose, and a mouth shaped like a mastiff's. 
His face was half thrown in shade by a broad hat with 
a buck's tail in it. His gray hair hung short in his neck. 
He wore a hunting-frock, with Indian leggings, and moc- 
casons, and a tomahawk in the broad wampum-belt round 
his waist. As Dolph caught a distinct view of his per- 
son and features, something reminded him of the old 
man of the haunted house. The man before him, how- 
ever, was different in dress and age ; he was more cheery 
too in aspect, and it was hard to find where the vague 
resemblance lay ; but a resemblance there certaintly was. 



226 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Dolph felt some degree of awe in approaching him ; but 
was assured by a frank, hearty welcome. He was still 
further encouraged by perceiving that the dead body, 
which had caused him some alarm, was that of a deer ; 
and his satisfaction was complete in discerning, by savory 
steams from a kettle, suspended by a hooked stick over 
the fire, that there was a part cooking for .the evening's 
repast. 

He had, in fact, fallen in with a rambling hunting- 
party, such as often took place in those days among the 
settlers along the river. The hunter is always hospitable ; 
and nothing makes men more social and unceremonious 
than meeting in the wilderness. The commander of the 
party poured out a dram of cheering liquor, which he 
gave him with a merry leer, to warm his heart ; and or- 
dered one of his followers to fetch some garments from 
a pinnace, moored in a cove close by, while those in 
which our hero was dripping might be dried before the 
fire. 

Dolph found, as he had suspected, that the shot from 
the glen, which had come so near giving him his quietus 
when on the precipice, was from the party before him. 
He had nearly crushed one of them by the fragments of 
rock which he had detached; and the jovial old hunter, 
in the broad hat and buck-tail, had fired at the place 
where he saw the bushes move, supposing it to be some 
wild animal. He laughed heartily at the blunder, it 
being what is considered an exceeding good joke among 
hunters ; " but faith, my lad," said he, " if I had but 
caught a glimpse of you to take sight at, you would have 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 227 

followed the rock. Antony Vander Heyden is seldom 
known to miss his aim." These last words were at once 
a elite to Dolph's curiosity ; and a few questions let him 
completely into the character of the man before him, and 
of his band of woodland rangers. The commander in 
the broad hat and hunting-frock was no less a personage 
than the Heer Antony Vander Heyden, of Albany, of 
whom Dolph had many a time heard. He was, in fact, 
the hero of many a story, his singular humors and whim- 
sical habits being matters of wonder to his quiet Dutch 
neighbors. As he was a man of property, having had 
a father before him from whom he inherited large tracts 
of wild land, and whole barrels full of wampum, he 
could indulge his humors without control. Instead of 
staying quietly at home, eating and drinking at regular 
meal-times, amusing himself by smoking his pipe on the 
bench before the door, and then turning into a comfort- 
able bed at night, he delighted in all kinds of rough, wild 
expeditions : never so happy as when on a hunting-party 
in the wilderness, sleeping under trees or bark sheds, 
or cruising down the river, or on some woodland lake, 
fishing and fowling, and living the Lord knows how. 

He was a great friend to Indians, and to an Indian 
mode of life ; which he considered true natural liberty 
and manly enjoyment. When at home he had always 
several Indian hangers-on who loitered about his house, 
sleeping like hounds in the sunshine ; or preparing 
hunting and fishing tackle for some new expedition ; or 
shooting at marks with bows and arrows. 

Over these vagrant beings Heer Antony had as perfect 



228 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

command as a huntsman over his pack ; though they 
were great nuisances to the regular people of his neigh- 
borhood. As- he was a rich man, no one ventured to 
thwart his humors ; indeed, his hearty, joyous manner 
made him universally popular. He would troll a Dutch 
song as he tramped along the street ; hail every one a 
mile off, and when he entered a house, would slap the 
good man familiarly on the back, shake him by the hand 
till he roared, and kiss his wife and daughter before his 
face, — in short, there was no pride nor ill-humor about 
Heer Antony. 

Besides his Indian hangers-on, he had three or four 
humble friends among the white men, who looked up to 
him as a patron, and had the run of his kitchen, and the 
favor of being taken with him occasionally on his expe- 
ditions. With a medley of such retainers he was at 
present on a cruise along the shores of the Hudson, in a 
pinnace kept for his own recreation. There were two 
white men with him, dressed partly in the Indian style, 
with moccasons and hunting-shirts ; the rest of his crew 
consisted of four favorite Indians. They had been 
prowling about the river, without any definite object, 
until they found themselves in the highlands ; where 
they had passed two or three days, hunting the deer 
which still lingered among these mountains. 

" It is lucky for you, young man," said Antony Vander 
Hey den, "that you happened to be knocked overboard 
to-day, as to-morrow morning we start early on our re- 
turn homewards ; and you might then have looked in 
vain for a meal among the mountains — but come, lads, 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 229 

stir about ! stir about ! Let's see what prog we have 
for supper ; the kettle has boiled long enough ; my 
stomach cries cupboard ; and I'll warrant our guest is in 
no mood to dally with his trencher." 

There was a bustle now in the little encampment ; one 
took off the kettle and turned a part of the contents into 
a huge wooden bowl. Another prepared a flat rock for 
a table ; while a third brought various utensils from the 
pinnace ; Heer Antony himself brought a flask or two of 
precious liquor from his own private locker ; knowing his 
boon companions too well to trust any of them with the key. 

A rude but hearty repast was soon spread ; consisting 
of venison smoking from the kettle, with cold bacon, 
boiled Indian corn, and mighty loaves of good brown 
household bread. Never had Dolph made a more deli- 
cious repast ; and when he had washed it down with 
two or three draughts from the Heer Antony's flask, and 
felt the jolly liquor sending its warmth through his 
veins, and glowing round his very heart, he would not 
have changed his situation, no, not with the governor 
of the province. 

The Heer Antony, too, grew chirping and joyous ; told 
half a dozen fat stories, at which his white followers 
laughed immoderately, though the Indians, as usual, 
maintained an invincible gravity. 

" This is your true life, my boy ! " said he, slapping 
Dolph on the shoulder ; " a man is never a man till he 
can defy wind and weather, range woods and wilds, 
sleep under a tree, and live on bass-wood leaves ! " 

And then would he sing a stave or two of a Dutch 



230 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

drinking-song, swaying a short squab Dutch bottle in his 
hand, while, his myrmidons would join in the chorus, 
until the woods echoed again ; as the good old song has 
it, 

" They all with a shout made the elements ring 
So soon as the office was o'er, 
To feasting they went, with true merriment, 
And tippled strong liquor gillore." 

In the midst of his joviality, however, Heer Antony 
did not lose sight of discretion. Though he pushed the 
bottle without reserve to Dolph, he always took care to 
help his followers himself, knowing the beings he had to 
deal with ; and was particular in granting but a moder- 
ate allowance to the Indians. The repast being ended, 
the Indians having drunk their liquor, and smoked their 
pipes, now wrapped themselves in their blankets, 
stretched themselves on the ground, with their feet to 
the fire, and soon fell asleep, like so many tired hounds. 
The rest of the party remained chatting before the fire, 
which the gloom of the forest, and the dampness of the 
air from the late storm, rendered extremely grateful 
and comforting. The conversation gradually moderated 
from the hilarity of supper-time, and turned upon hunt- 
ing-adventures, and exploits and perils in the wilder- 
ness, many of which were so strange and improbable, 
that I will not venture to repeat them, lest the veracity 
of Antony Vander Heyden and his comrades should be 
brought into question. There were many legendary 
tales told, also, about the river, and the settlements on 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. # 231 

its borders ; in which valuable kind of lore the Heer 
Antony seemed deeply versed. As the sturdy bush- 
beater sat in a twisted root of a tree, that served him 
for an arm-chair, dealing forth these wild stories, with 
the fire gleaming on his strongly marked visage, Dolph 
was again repeatedly perplexed by something that re- 
minded him of the phantom of the haunted house ; 
some vague resemblance not to be fixed upon any precise 
feature or lineament, but pervading the general air of 
his countenance and figure. 

The circumstance of Dolph's falling overboard led to 
the relation of divers disasters and singular mishaps 
that had befallen voyagers on this great river, particu- 
larly in the earlier periods of colonial history ; most of 
which the Heer deliberately attributed to supernatural 
causes. Dolph stared at this suggestion; but the old 
gentleman assured him it was very currently believed by 
the settlers along the river, that these highlands were 
under the dominion of supernatural and mischievous 
beings, which seemed to have taken some pique against 
the Dutch colonists in the early time of the settlement. 
In consequence of this, they have ever taken particular 
delight in venting their spleen, and indulging their hu- 
mors, upon the Dutch skippers ; bothering them with 
flaws, head-winds, counter-currents, and all kinds of 
impediments ; insomuch, that a Dutch navigator was 
always obliged to be exceedingly wary and deliberate in 
his proceedings ; to come to anchor at dusk ; to drop his 
peak, or take in sail, whenever he saw a swag-bellied 
cloud rolling over the mountains ; in short, to take so 



232 'SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

many precautions, that he was often apt to be an incred- 
ible time in toiling up the river. 

Some, he said, believed these mischievous powers of 
the air to be the evil spirits conjured up by the Indian 
wizards, in the early times of the province, to revenge 
themselves on the strangers who had dispossessed them 
of their country. They even attributed to their incanta- 
tions the misadventure which befell the renowned Hen- 
drick Hudson, when he sailed so gallantly up this river 
in quest of a northwest passage, and, as he thought, 
ran his ship aground ; which they affirm was nothing 
more nor less than a spell of these same wizards, to 
prevent his getting to China in this direction. 

The greater part, however, Heer Antony observed, 
accounted for all the extraordinary circumstances attend- 
ing this river, and the perplexities of the skippers who 
navigated it, by the old legend of the Storm-ship which 
haunted Point-no-point. On finding Dolph to be utterly 
ignorant of this tradition, the Heer stared at him for a 
moment with surprise, and wondered where he had passed 
his life, to be uninformed on so important a point of 
history. To pass away the remainder of the evening, 
therefore, he undertook the tale, as far as his memory 
would serve, in the very words in which it had been 
written out by Mynheer Selyne, an early poet of the 
New Kederlandts. Giving, then, a stir to the fire, that 
sent up its sparks among the trees like a little volcano, 
he adjusted himself comfortably in his root of a tree, and 
throwing back his head, and closing his eyes for a few 
moments, to summon up his recollection, he related the 
following legend. 



THE STORM-SHIP. 233 



THE STOEM-SHIP. 

In the golden age of the province of the New Nether- 
lands, when under the sway of Wouter Van Twiller, 
otherwise called the Doubter, the people of the Manhat- 
toes were alarmed one sultry afternoon, just about the 
time of the summer solstice, by a tremendous storm of 
thunder and lightning. The rain fell in such torrents 
as absolutely to spatter up and smoke along the ground. 
It seemed as if the thunder rattled and rolled over the 
very roofs of the houses ; the lightning was seen to play 
about the church of St. Nicholas, and to strive three 
times, in vain, to strike its weather-cock. Garret Van 
Home's new chimney was split almost from top to 
bottom, and Doffue Mildeberger was struck speechless 
from his bald-faced mare, just as he was riding into 
town. In a word, it was one of those unparalleled 
storms which only happen once within the memory of 
that venerable personage known in all towns by the 
appellation of " the oldest inhabitant." 

Great was the terror of the good old women of the 
Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, and 
took refuge in the cellars ; after having hung a shoe on 
the iron point of every bedpost, lest it should attract the 
lightning. At length the storm abated; the thunder 
sank into a growl, and the setting sun, breaking from 



234 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

under the fringed borders of the clouds, made the broad 
bosom of the bay to gleam like a sea of molten gold. 

The word was given from the fort that a ship was 
standing up the bay. It passed from mouth to mouth, 
and street to street, and soon put the little capital in a 
bustle. The arrival of a ship, in those early times of the 
settlement, was an event of vast importance to the inhabi- 
tants. It brought them news from the old world, from 
the land of their birth, from which they were so com- 
pletely severed : to the yearly ship, too, they looked for 
their supply of luxuries, of finery, of comforts, and 
almost of necessaries. The good vrouw could not have 
her new cap nor new gown until the arrival of the ship ; 
the artist waited for it for his tools, the burgomaster for 
his pipe and his supply of Hollands, the schoolboy 
for his top and marbles, and the lordly landholder for the 
bricks with which he was to build his new mansion. 
Thus every one, rich and poor, great and small, looked 
out for the arrival of the ship. It was the great yearly 
event of the town of New Amsterdam ; and from one 
end of the year to the other, the ship — the ship — the 
ship — was the continual topic of conversation. 

The news from the fort, therefore, brought all the 
populace down to the Battery, to behold the wished-for 
sight. It was not exactly the time when she had been 
expected to arrive, and the circumstance was a matter of 
some speculation. Many were the groups collected about 
the Battery. Here and there might be seen a burgo- 
master, of slow and pompous gravity, giving his opinion 
with great confidence to a crowd of old women and idle 



THE STORM-SHIP. 235 

boys. At another place was a knot of old weather- 
beaten fellows, who had been seamen or fishermen in 
their times and were great authorities on such occasions ; 
these gave different opinions, and caused great disputes 
among their several adherents : but the man most looked 
up to, and followed and watched by the crowd, was Hans 
Van Pelt, an old Dutch sea-captain retired from service, 
the nautical oracle of the place. He reconnoitred the 
ship through an ancient telescope, covered with tarry 
canvas, hummed a Dutch tune to himself, and said 
nothing. A hum, however, from Hans Van Pelt, had 
always more weight with the public than a speech from 
another man. 

In the mean time the ship became more distinct to the 
naked eye : she was a stout, round, Dutch-built vessel, 
with high bow and poop, and bearing Dutch colors. 
The evening sun gilded her bellying canvas, as she came 
riding over the long waving billows. The sentinel who 
had given notice of her approach, declared, that he first 
got sight of her when she was in the centre of the bay, 
and that she broke suddenly on his sight, just as if she 
had come out of the bosom of the black thunder-cloud. 
The by-standers looked at Hans Van Pelt, to see what 
he would say to this report : Hans Van Pelt screwed his 
mouth closer together, and said nothing; upon which 
some shook their heads, and others shrugged their 
shoulders. 

The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but made no 
reply, and passing by the fort, stood on up the Hudson. 
A gun was brought to bear on her, and, with some difn- 



236 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

culty, loaded and fired by Hans Van Pelt, the garrison 
not being expert in artillery. The shot seemed abso- 
lutely to pass through the ship, and to skip along the 
water on the other side, but no notice was taken of it ! 
What was strange, she had all her sails set, and sailed 
right against wind and tide, which were both down the 
river. Upon this Hans Van Pelt, who was likewise 
harbor-master, ordered his boat, and set off to board her ; 
but after rowing two or three hours, he returned without 
success. Sometimes he would get within one or two 
hundred yards of her, and then, in a twinkling, she 
would be half a mile off. Some said it was because his 
oarsmen, who were rather pursy and short-winded, 
stopped every now and then to take breath, and spit on 
their hands ; but this it is probable was a mere scandal. 
He got near enough, however, to see the crew ; who were 
all dressed in the Dutch style, the officers in doublets 
and high hats and feathers ; not a word was spoken by 
any one on board ; they stood as motionless as so many 
statues, and the ship seemed as if left to her own gov- 
ernment. Thus she kept on, away up the river, lessen- 
ing and lessening in the evening sunshine, until she faded 
from sight, like a little white cloud melting away in the 
summer sky. 

The appearance of this ship threw the governor into 
one of the deepest doubts that ever beset him in the 
whole course of his administration. Fears were enter- 
tained for the security of the infant settlements on the 
river, lest this might be an enemy's ship in disguise, 
sent to take possession. The governor called together 



THE STORM-SHIP. 237 

his council repeatedly to assist him with their conjec- 
tures. He sat in his chair of state, built of timber from 
the sacred forest of the Hague, smoking his long jasmin 
pipe, and listening to all that his counsellors had to say 
on a subject about which they knew nothing ; but in 
spite of all the conjecturing of the sagest and oldest 
heads, the governor still continued to doubt. 

Messengers were despatched to different places on the 
river ; but they returned without any tidings — the ship 
had made no port. Day after day, and week after week, 
elapsed, but she never returned down the Hudson. As, 
however, the council seemed solicitous for intelligence, 
they had it in abundance. The captains of the sloops 
seldom arrived without bringing some report of having 
seen the strange ship at different parts of the river ; 
sometimes near the Pallisadoes, sometimes off Croton 
Point, and sometimes in the highlands ; but she never 
was reported as having been seen above the highlands. 
The crews of the sloops, it is true, generally differed 
among themselves in their accounts of these apparitions ; 
but that may have arisen from the uncertain situations 
in which they saw her. Sometimes it was by the flashes 
of the thunder-storm lighting up a pitchy night, and 
giving glimpses of her careering across Tappaan Zee, or 
the wide waste of Haver straw Bay. At one moment she 
would appear close upon them, as if likely to run them 
down, and would throw them into great bustle and 
alarm; but the next flash would show her far off, always 
sailing against the wind. Sometimes, in quiet moonlight 
nights, she would be seen under some high bluff of the 



238 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

highlands, all in deep shadow, excepting her topsails 
glittering in the moonbeams ; by the time, however, that 
the voyagers reached the place, no ship was to be seen ; 
and when they had passed on for some distance, and 
looked back, behold! there she was again, with her top- 
sails in the moonshine! Her appearance was always 
just after, or just before, or just in the midst of unruly 
weather; and she was known among the skippers and 
voyagers of the Hudson by the name of "the storm- 
ship." 

These reports perplexed the governor and his council 
more than ever ; and it would be endless to repeat the 
conjectures and opinions uttered on the subject. Some 
quoted cases in point, of ships seen off the coast of New 
England, navigated by witches and goblins. Old Hans 
Van Pelt, who had been more than once to the Dutch 
colony at the Cape of Good Hope, insisted that this must 
be the flying Dutchman, which had so long haunted 
Table Bay; but being unable to make port, had now 
sought another harbor. Others suggested, that, if it 
really was a supernatural apparition, as there was every 
natural reason to believe, it might be Hendrick Hudson, 
and his crew of the Half moon ; who, it was well known, 
had once run aground in the upper part of the river in 
seeking a northwest passage to China. This opinion had 
very little weight with the governor, but it passed current 
out of doors; for indeed it had already been reported 
that Hendrick Hudson and his crew haunted the Kaat- 
skill Mountain; and it appeared very reasonable to sup- 
pose, that his ship might infest the river where the 



THE STORM-SHIP, 239 

enterprise was baffled, or that it might bear the shadowy 
crew to their periodical revels in the mountain. 

Other events occurred to occupy the thoughts and 
doubts of the sage Wouter and his council, and the 
storm-ship ceased to be a subject of deliberation at the 
board. It continued, however, a matter of popular belief 
and marvellous anecdote through the whole time of the 
Dutch government, and particularly just before the cap- 
ture of New Amsterdam, and the subjugation of the 
province by the English squadron. About that time the 
storm-ship was repeatedly seen in the Tappaan Zee, and 
about Weehawk, and even down as far as Hoboken; 
and her appearance was supposed to be ominous of the 
approaching squall in public affairs, and the downfall of 
Dutch domination. 

Since that time we have no authentic accounts of her ; 
though it. is said she still haunts the highlands, and 
cruises about Point-no-point. People who live along the 
river insist that they sometimes see her in summer moon- 
light ; and that in a deep still midnight they have heard 
the chant of her crew, as if heaving the lead ; but sights 
and sounds are so deceptive along the mountainous 
shores, and about the wide bays and long reaches of this 
great river, that I confess I have very strong doubts 
upon the subject. 

It is certain, nevertheless, that strange things have 
been seen in these highlands in storms, which are con- 
sidered as connected with the old story of the ship. 
The captains of the river craft talk of a little bulbous- 
bottomed Dutch goblin, in trunk-hose and sugar-loafed 



240 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

hat, with a speaking-trumpet in his hand, which they 
say keeps about the Dunderberg. 1 They declare that 
they have heard him, in stormy weather, in the midst of 
the turmoil, giving orders in Low Dutch for the piping 
up of a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling off of another 
thunder-clap. That sometimes he has been seen sur- 
rounded by a crew of little imps in broad breeches and 
short doublets ; tumbling head-over-heels in the rack and 
mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air; or 
buzzing like a swarm of flies about Antony's Nose ; and 
that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the storm was 
always greatest. One time a sloop, in passing by the 
Dunderberg, was overtaken by a thunder-gust, that came 
scouring round the mountain, and seemed to burst just 
over the vessel. Though tight and well ballasted, she 
labored dreadfully, and the water came over the gunwale. 
All the crew were amazed when it was discovered that 
there was a little white sugar-loaf hat on the mast-head, 
known at once to be the hat of the Heer of the Dunder- 
berg. Nobody, however, dared to climb to the mast-head, 
and get rid of this terrible hat. The sloop continued 
laboring and rocking, as if she would have rolled her 
mast overboard, and seemed in continual danger either 
of upsetting or of running on shore. In this way she 
drove quite through the highlands, until she had passed 
Pollopol's Island, where, it is said, the jurisdiction of 
the Dunderberg potentate ceases. No sooner had she 
passed this bourn, than the little hat spun up into the 
air like a top, whirled up all the clouds into a vortex, 
1 I.e., The " Thunder-Mountain," so called from its echoes. 



THE STORM-SHIP. 241 

and hurried them back to the summit of the Dunder- 
berg ; while the sloop righted herself, and sailed on as 
quietly as if in a mill-pond. Nothing saved her from utter 
wreck but the fortunate circumstance of having a horse- 
shoe nailed against the mast, — a wise precaution against 
evil spirits, since adopted by all the Dutch captains that 
navigate this haunted river. 

There is another story told of this foul-weather urchin, 
by Skipper Daniel Ouselsticker, of Eishkill, who was 
never known to tell a lie. He declared, that, in a severe 
squall, he saw him seated astride of his bowsprit, rid- 
ing the sloop ashore, full butt against Antony's Nose, 
and that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson, of 
Esopus, who happened to be on board, and who sang the 
hymn of St. Nicholas ; whereupon the goblin threw him- 
self up in the air like a ball, and went off in a whirl- 
wind, carrying away with him the nightcap of the 
Dominie's wife, which was discovered the next Sunday 
morning hanging on the weather-cock of Esopus church- 
steeple, at least forty miles off ! Several events of this 
kind having taken place, the regular skippers of the 
river, for a long time, did not venture to pass the Dun- 
derberg without lowering their peaks, out of homage to 
the Heer of the mountain ; and it was observed that all 
such as paid this tribute of respect were suffered to pass 
unmolested. 1 

1 Among the superstitions which prevailed in the colonies, during 
the early times of the settlements, there seems to have been a singu- 
lar one about phantom ships. The superstitious fancies of men are 
always apt to turn upon those objects which concern their daily occu- 



242 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

" Such," said Antony Vander Heyden, " are a few of 
the stories written down by Selyne the poet, concerning 
the storm-ship, — which he affirms to . have brought a 
crew of mischievous imps into the province, from some 
old ghost-ridden country of Europe. I could give a host 
more, if necessary; for all the accidents that so often 
befall the river craft in the highlands are said to be 
tricks played off by these imps of the Dunderberg ; but I 
see that you are nodding, so let us turn in for the night." 

The moon had just raised her silver horns above the 
round back of Old Bull Hill, and lit up the gray rocks 
and shagged forests, and glittered on the waving bosom 
of the river. The night-dew was falling, and the late 
gloomy mountains began to soften and put on a gray 

pations. The solitary ship, which, from year to year, came like a 
raven in the wilderness, bringing to the inhabitants of a settlement 
the comforts of life from the world from which they were cut off, 
was apt to be present to their dreams, whether sleeping or waking. 
The accidental sight from shore of a sail gliding along the horizon in 
those as yet lonely seas, was apt to be a matter of much talk and 
speculation. There is mention made in one of the early New Eng- 
land writers of a ship navigated by witches, with a great horse that 
stood by the mainmast. I have met with another story, somewhere, 
of a ship that drove on shore, in fair, sunny, tranquil weather, with 
sails all set, and a table spread in the cabin, as if to regale a number 
of guests, yet not a living being on board. These phantom ships 
always sailed in the eye of the wind ; or ploughed their way with great 
velocity, making the smooth sea foam before their bows, when not a 
breath of air was stirring. 

Moore has finely wrought up one of these legends of the sea into a 
little tale, which, within a small compass, contains the very essence 
of this species of supernatural fiction. I allude to his Spectre Ship, 
bound to Deadman's Isle. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 243 

aerial tint in the dewy light. The hunters stirred the 
fire, and threw on fresh fuel to qualify the damp of the 
night-air. They then prepared a bed of branches and 
dry leaves under a ledge of rocks for Dolph; while 
Antony Vander Heyden, wrapping himself in a huge 
coat of skins, stretched himself before the fire. It was 
some time, however, before Dolph could close his eyes. 
He lay contemplating the strange scene before him : the 
wild woods and rocks around; the fire throwing fitful 
gleams on the faces of the sleeping savages ; and the 
Heer Antony, too, who so singularly, yet vaguely, re- 
minded him of the nightly visitant to the haunted house. 
Now and then he heard the cry of some animal from the 
forest ; or the hooting of the owl ; or the notes of the 
whippoorwill, which seemed to abound among these soli- 
tudes ; or the splash of a sturgeon, leaping out of the 
river and falling back full-length on its placid surface. 
He contrasted all this with his accustomed nest in the 
garret-room of the doctor's mansion ; — where the only 
sounds at night were the church-clock telling the hour; 
the drowsy voice of the watchman, drawling out all was 
well ; the deep snoring of the doctor's clubbed nose from 
below-stairs ; or the cautious labors of some carpenter 
rat gnawing in the wainscot. His thoughts then wan- 
dered to his poor old mother : what would she think of 
his mysterious disappearance — what anxiety and distress 
would she not suffer ? This thought would continually 
intrude itself to mar his present enjoyment. It brought 
with it a feeling of pain and compunction, and he fell 
asleep with the tears yet standing in his eyes. 



244 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Were this a mere tale of fancy, here would be a fine 
opportunity for weaving in strange adventures among 
these wild mountains, and roving hunters ; and, after 
involving my hero in a variety of perils and difficulties, 
rescuing him from them all by some miraculous contri- 
vance ; but as this is absolutely a true story, I must con- 
tent myself with simple facts, and keep to probabilities. 

At an early hour of the next day, therefore, after a 
hearty morning's meal, the encampment broke up, and 
our adventurers embarked in the pinnace of Antony 
Vander Heyden. There being no wind for the sails, the 
Indians rowed her gently along, keeping time to a kind 
of chant of one of the white men. The day was serene 
and beautiful ; the river without a wave ; and as the 
vessel cleft the glassy water, it left a long, undulating 
track behind. The crows, who had scented the hunters' 
banquet, were already gathering and hovering in the air, 
just where a column of thin, blue smoke, rising from 
among the trees showed the place of their last night's 
quarters. As they coasted along the bases of the 
mountains, the Heer Antony pointed out to Dolph a bald 
eagle, the sovereign of these regions, who sat perched on 
a dry tree that projected over the river, and, with eye 
turned upwards, seemed to be drinking in the splendor 
of the morning sun. Their approach disturbed the mon- 
arch's meditations. He first spread one wing, and then 
the other ; balanced himself for a moment ; and then, 
quitting his perch with dignified composure, wheeled 
slowly over their heads. Dolph snatched up a gun, and 
sent a whistling ball after him, that cut some of the 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 245 

feathers from his wing; the report of the gun leaped 
sharply from rock to rock, and awakened a thousand 
echoes ; but the monarch of the air sailed calmly on, 
ascending higher and higher, and wheeling widely as he 
ascended, soaring up the green bosom of the woody 
mountain, until he disappeared over the brow of a 
beetling precipice. Dolph felt in a manner rebuked by 
this proud tranquillity, and almost reproached himself for 
having so wantonly insulted this majestic bird. Heer 
Antony told him, laughing, to remember that he was not 
yet out of the territories of the lord of the Dunderberg ; 
and an old Indian shook his head, and observed, that 
there was bad luck in killing an eagle ; the hunter, on 
the contrary, should always leave him a portion of his 
spoils. 

Nothing, however, occurred to molest them on their 
voyage. They passed pleasantly through magnificent 
and lonely scenes, until they came to where Pollopol's 
Island lay, like a floating bower at the extremity of the 
highlands. Here they landed, until the heat of the day 
should abate, or a breeze spring up that might supersede 
the labor of the oar. Some prepared the mid-day meal, 
while others reposed under the shade of the trees, in 
luxurious summer indolence, looking drowsily forth upon 
the beauty of the scene. On the one side were the 
highlands, vast and cragged, feathered to the top with 
forests, and throwing their shadows on the glassy water 
that dimpled at their feet. On the other side was a wide 
expanse of the river, like a broad lake, with long sunny 
reaches, and green headlands; and the distant line of 



246 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Shawangunk Mountains waving along a clear horizon, or 
checkered by a fleecy cloud. 

But I forbear to dwell on the particulars of their 
cruise along the river; this vagrant, amphibious life, 
careering across silver sheets of water; coasting wild 
woodland shores ; banqueting on shady promontories, 
with the spreading tree overhead, the river curling its 
light foam to one's feet, and distant mountain, and rock, 
and tree, and snowy cloud, and deep-blue sky, all min- 
gling in summer beauty before one; all this, though 
never cloying in the enjoyment, would be but tedious in 
narration. 

When encamped by the water-side, some of the party 
would go into the woods and hunt ; others would fish : 
sometimes they would amuse themselves by shooting at 
a mark, by leaping, by running, by wrestling ; and Dolph 
gained great favor in the eyes of Antony Vander Heyden, 
by his skill and adroitness in all these exercises which 
the Heer considered as the highest of manly accomplish- 
ments. 

Thus did they coast jollily on, choosing only the pleas- 
ant hours for voyaging ; sometimes in the cool morning 
dawn, sometimes in the sober evening twilight, and some- 
times when the moonshine spangled the crisp curling 
waves that whispered along the sides of their little bark. 
Never had Dolph felt so completely in his element; 
never had he met with anything so completely to his 
taste as this wild, hap-hazard life. He was the very 
man to second Antony Vander Hey den in his rambling 
humors, and gained continually on his affections. The 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 247 

heart of the old bushwhacker yearned toward the young 
man, who seemed thus growing up in his own likeness ; 
and as they approached to the end of their voyage, he 
could not help inquiring a little into his history. Dolph 
frankly told him his course of life, his severe medical 
studies, his little proficiency, and his very dubious pros- 
pects. The Heer was shocked to find that such amazing 
talents and accomplishments were to be cramped and 
buried under a doctor's wig. He had a sovereign con- 
tempt for the healing art, having never had any other 
physician than the butcher. He bore a mortal grudge 
to all kinds of study also, ever since he had been flogged 
about an unintelligible book when he was a boy. But 
to think that a young fellow like Dolph, of such won- 
derful abilities, who could shoot, fish, run, jump, ride, 
and wrestle should be obliged to roll pills, and adminis- 
ter juleps for a living — 'twas monstrous ! He told 
Dolph never to despair, but to " throw physic to . the 
dogs ; " for a young fellow of his prodigious talents 
could never fail to make his way. " As you seem to 
have no acquaintance in Albany," said Heer Antony, 
" you shall go home with me, and remain under my roof 
until you can look about you ; and in the mean time we 
can take an occasional bout at shooting and fishing, for it 
is a pity that such talents should lie idle." 

Dolph, who was at the mercy of chance, was not hard 
to be persuaded. Indeed, on turning over matters in his 
mind, which he did very sagely and deliberately, he 
could not but think that Antony Vander Hey den was, 
" somehow or other," connected with the story of the 



248 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, 

Haunted House ; that the misadventure in the highlands, 
which had thrown them so strangely together, was, 
" somehow or other," to work out something good : in 
short, there is nothing so convenient as this " somehow- 
or-other" way of accommodating one's self to circum- 
stances ; it is the main stay of a heedless actor, and 
tardy reasoner, like Dolph Heyliger ; and he who can, in 
this loose, easy way, link foregone evil to anticipated 
good, possesses a secret of happiness almost equal to the 
philosopher's stone. 

On their arrival at Albany, the sight of Dolph's com- 
panion seemed to cause universal satisfaction. Many 
were the greetings at the river-side, and the salutations 
in the streets ; the dogs bounded before him ; the boys 
whooped as he passed ; everybody seemed to know An- 
tony Vander Heyden. Dolph followed on in silence, 
admiring the neatness of this worthy burgh ; for in 
those days Albany was in all its glory, and inhabited 
almost exclusively by the descendants of the original 
Dutch settlers, not having as yet been discovered and 
colonized by the restless people of New England. 
Everything was quiet and orderly ; everything was con- 
ducted calmly and leisurely ; no hurry, no bustle, no 
struggling and scrambling for existence. The grass 
grew about the unpaved streets, and relieved the eye by 
its refreshing verdure. Tall sycamores or pendent wil- 
lows shaded the houses, with caterpillars swinging, in 
long silken strings, from their branches ; or moths, flut- 
tering about like coxcombs, in joy at their gay transfor- 
mation. The houses were built in the old Dutch style, 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 249 

with the gable-ends towards the street. The thrifty 
housewife was seated on a bench before her door, in 
close-crimped cap, bright-flowered gown, and white 
apron, busily employed in knitting. The husband 
smoked his pipe on the opposite bench ; and the little 
pet negro girl, seated on the step at her mistress's feet, 
was industriously plying her needle. The swallows 
sported about the eaves, or skimmed along the streets, 
and brought back some rich booty for their clamorous 
young ; and the little housekeeping wren flew in and out 
of a Liliputian house, or an old hat nailed against the 
wall. The cows were coming home, lowing through the 
streets, to be milked at their owner's door ; and if, per- 
chance, there were any loiterers, some negro urchin, with 
a long goad, was gently urging them homewards. 

As Dolph's companion passed on, he received a tran- 
quil nod from the burghers, and a friendly word from 
their wives ; all calling him familiarly by the name of 
Antony ; for it was the custom in this stronghold of the 
patriarchs, where they had all grown up together from 
childhood, to call each other by the Christian name. 
The Heer did not pause to have his usual jokes with 
them, for he was impatient to reach his home. At 
length they arrived at his mansion. It was of some 
magnitude, in the Dutch style, with large iron figures on 
the gables, that gave the date of its erection, and showed 
that it had been built in the earliest times of the settle- 
ment. 

The news of Heer Antony's arrival had preceded him, 
and the whole household was on the look-out. A crew 



250 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

of negroes, large and small, had collected in front of the 
honse to receive him. The old, white-headed ones, who 
had grown gray in his service, grinned for joy, and made 
many awkward bows and grimaces, and the little ones 
capered about his knees. But the most happy being in 
the household was a little, plump, blooming lass, his only 
child, and the darling of his heart. She came bounding 
out of the house ; but the sight of a strange young man 
with her father, called up, for a moment, all the bashful- 
ness of a homebred damsel. Dolph gazed at her with 
wonder and delight ; never had he seen, as he thought, 
anything so comely in the shape of a woman. She was 
dressed in the good old Dutch taste, with long stays, and 
full, short petticoats, so admirably adapted to show and 
set off the female form. Her hair, turned up under a 
small round cap, displayed the fairness of her forehead ; 
she had fine, blue, laughing eyes, a trim, slender waist, 
and soft" swell — but, in a word, she was a little Dutch 
divinity ; and Dolph, who never stopped half-way in a 
new impulse, fell desperately in love with her. 

Dolph was now ushered into the house with a hearty 
welcome. In the interior was a mingled display of Heer 
Antony's taste and habits, and of the opulence of his 
predecessors. The chambers were furnished with good 
old mahogany ; the beauf ets and cupboards glittered with 
embossed silver and painted china. Over the parlor 
fireplace was, as usual, the family coat of arms, painted 
and framed ; above which was a long duck fowling-piece, 
flanked by an Indian pouch, and a powder-horn. The 
room was decorated with many Indian articles, such as 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 251 

pipes of peace, tomahawks, scalping-knives, hunting- 
pouches, and belts of wampum ; and there were various 
kinds of fishing-tackle, and two or three fowling-pieces 
in the corners. The household affairs seemed to be con- 
ducted, in some measure, after the master's humors ; cor- 
rected, perhaps, by a little quiet management of the 
daughter's. There was a great degree of patriarchal 
simplicity, and good-humored indulgence. The negroes 
came into the room without being called, merely to look 
at their master, and hear of his adventures ; they would 
stand listening at the door until he had finished a story, 
and then go off on a broad grin, to repeat it in the 
kitchen. A couple of pet negro children were playing 
about the floor with the dogs, and sharing with them 
their bread and butter. All the domestics looked hearty 
and happy ; and when the table was set for the evening 
repast, the variety and abundance of good household 
luxuries bore testimony to the open-handed liberality of 
the Heer, and the notable housewifery of his daughter. 

In the evening there dropped in several of the worthies 
of the place, the Van Renssellaers, and the Gansevoorts, 
and the Eosebooms, and others of Antony Vander Hey- 
den's intimates, to hear an account of his expedition; 
for he was the Sinbad of Albany, and his exploits and 
adventures were favorite topics of conversation among 
the inhabitants. While these sat gossiping together 
about the door of the hall, and telling long twilight sto- 
ries, Dolph was cosily seated, entertaining the daugh- 
ter, on a window-bench. He had already got on intimate 
terms ; for those were not times of false reserve and 



252 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

idle ceremony ; and, besides, there is something won- 
derfully propitious to a lover's suit in the delightful 
dusk of a long summer evening ; it gives courage to the 
most timid tongue, and hides the blushes of the bashful. 
The stars alone twinkled brightly ; and now and then 
a fire-fly streamed his transient light before the window, 
or, wandering into the room, flew gleaming about the 
ceiling. 

What Dolph whispered in her ear that long summer 
evening, it is impossible to say ; his words were so low 
and indistinct, that they never reached the ear of the 
historian. It is probable, however, that they were to 
the purpose ; for he had a natural talent at pleasing the 
sex, and was never long in company with a petticoat with- 
out paying proper court to it. In the mean time the visit- 
ors, one by one, departed ; Antony Vander Heyden, who 
had fairly talked himself silent, sat nodding alone in his 
chair by the door, when he was suddenly aroused by 
a hearty salute with which Dolph Heyliger had un- 
guardedly rounded off one of his periods, and which 
echoed through the still chamber like the report of a 
pistol. The Heer started up, rubbed his eyes, called for 
lights, and observed that it was high time to go to bed ; 
though, on parting for the night, he squeezed Dolph 
heartily by the hand, looked kindly in his face, and 
shook his head knowingly ; for the Heer well remembered 
what he himself had been at the youngster's age. 

The chamber in which our hero was lodged was spa- 
cious, and panelled with oak. It was furnished with 
clothes-presses, and mighty chests of drawers, well 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 253 

waxed, and glittering with brass ornaments. These con- 
tained ample stock of family linen ; for the Dntch house- 
wives had always a laudable pride in showing off their 
household treasures to strangers. 

Dolph's mind, however, was too full to take particular 
note of the objects around him ; yet he could not help 
continually comparing the free, open-hearted cheeriness 
of this establishment with the starveling, sordid, joyless 
housekeeping at Doctor Knipperhausen's. Still some- 
thing marred the enjoyment : the idea that he must take 
leave of his hearty host, and pretty hostess, and cast 
himself once more adrift upon the world. To linger 
here would be folly : he should only get deeper in love ; 
and for a poor varlet, like himself, to aspire to the daugh- 
ter of the great Heer Vander Heyden — it was madness 
to think of such a thing ! The very kindness that the 
girl had shown towards him prompted him, on reflection, 
to hasten his departure ; it would be a poor return for 
the frank hospitality of his host to entangle his daugh. 
ter's heart in an injudicious attachment. In a word, Dolph 
was like many other young reasoners of exceeding good 
hearts and giddy heads, — who think after they act, and 
act differently from what they think, — who make excel- 
lent determinations overnight, and forget to keep them 
the next morning. 

" This is a fine conclusion, truly, of my voyage," said 
he, as he almost buried himself in a sumptuous feather- 
bed, and drew the fresh white sheets up to his chin. 
" Here am I, instead of finding a bag of money to carry 
home, launched in a strange place, with scarcely a stiver 



254 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

in my pocket ; and, what is worse, have jumped ashore 
up to my very ears in love into the bargain. However," 
added he, after some pause, stretching himself, and turn- 
ing himself in bed, " I'm in good quarters for the pres- 
ent, at least ; so I'll e'en enjoy the present moment, and 
let the next take care of itself ; I dare say all will work 
out, ' somehow or other,' for the best." 

As he said these words, he reached out his hand to 
extinguish the candle, when he was suddenly struck 
with astonishment and dismay, for he thought he beheld 
the phantom of the haunted house, staring on him from 
a dusky part of the chamber. A second look reassured 
him, as he perceived that what he had taken for the 
spectre was, in fact, nothing but a Flemish portrait, 
hanging in a shadowy corner, just behind a clothes-press. 
It was, however, the precise representation of his nightly 
visitor. The same cloak and belted jerkin, the same 
grizzled beard and fixed eye, the same broad slouched 
hat, with a feather hanging over one side. Dolph now 
called to mind the resemblance he had frequently re- 
marked between his host and the old man of the haunted 
house ; and was fully convinced they were in some way 
connected, and that some especial destiny had governed 
his voyage. He lay gazing on the portrait with almost 
as much awe as he had gazed on the ghostly original, 
until the shrill house-clock warned him of the lateness 
of the hour. He put out the light ; but remained for a 
long time turning over these curious circumstances and 
coincidences in his mind, until he fell asleep. His 
dreams partook of the nature of his waking thoughts. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 255 

He fancied that lie still lay gazing on the picture, until, 
by degrees, it became animated ; that the figure descended 
•from the wall, and walked out of the room ; that he fol- 
lowed it, and found himself by the well to which the old 
man pointed, smiled on him, and disappeared. 

In the morning, when he waked, he found his host 
standing by his bedside, who gave him a hearty morn- 
ing's salutation, and asked him how he had slept. 
Dolph answered cheerily; but took occasion to inquire 
about the portrait that hung against the wall. "Ah," 
said Heer Antony, "that's a portrait of old Killian 
Vander Spiegel, once a burgomaster of Amsterdam, who, 
on some popular troubles, abandoned Holland, and came 
over to the province during the government of Peter 
Stuyvesant. He was my ancestor by the mother's side, 
and an old miserly curmudgeon he was. When the 
English took possession of New Amsterdam, in 1664, he 
retired into the country. He fell into a melancholy, 
apprehending that his wealth would be taken from him 
and he come to beggary. He turned all his property 
into cash, and used to hide it away. He was for a year 
or two concealed in various places, fancying himself 
sought after by the English, to strip him of his wealth ; 
and finally he was found dead in his bed one morning, 
without any one being able to discover where he had 
concealed the greater part of his money." 

When his host had left the room, Dolph remained for 
some time lost in thought. His whole mind was occu- 
pied by what he had heard. Vander Spiegel was his 
mother's family name ; and he recollected to have heard 



256 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

her speak of this very Killian Vander Spiegel as one of 
her ancestors. He had heard her say, too, that her 
father was Killian's rightful heir, only that the old man 
died without leaving anything to be inherited. It now 
appeared that Heer Antony was likewise a descendant, 
and perhaps an heir also of this poor rich man; and that 
thus the Heyligers and the Vander Heydens were re- 
motely connected. "What," thought he, "if, after all, 
this is the interpretation of my dream, that this is the 
way I am to make my fortune by this voyage to Albany, 
and that I am to find the old man's hidden wealth in the 
bottom of that well ? But what an odd roundabout 
mode of communicating the matter! . Why the plague 
could not the old goblin have told me about the well at 
once, without sending me all the way to Albany, to hear 
a story that was to send me all the way back again ? " 

These thoughts passed through his mind while he was 
dressing. He descended the stairs, full of perplexity, 
when the bright face of Marie Vander Heyden suddenly 
beamed in smiles upon him, and seemed to give him a 
clue to the whole mystery. "After all," thought he, 
"the old goblin is in the right. If I am to get his 
wealth, he means that I shall marry his pretty descen- 
dant; thus both branches of the family will again be 
united, and the property go on in the proper channel." 

No sooner did this idea enter his head, than it carried 
conviction with it. He was now all impatience to hurry 
back and secure the treasure, which, he did not doubt, 
lay at the bottom of the well, and which he feared every 
moment might be discovered by some other person. 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 257 

"Who knows," thought he, "but this night-walking old 
fellow of the haunted house may be in the habit of 
haunting every visitor, and may give a hint to some 
shrewder fellow than myself, who will take a shorter 
cut to the well than by the way of Albany?" He 
wished a thousand times that the babbling old ghost was 
laid in the Eed Sea, and his rambling portrait with him. 
He was in a perfect fever to depart. Two or three days 
elapsed before any opportunity presented for returning 
down the river. They were ages to Dolph, notwith- 
standing that he was basking in the smiles of the pretty 
Marie, and daily getting more and more enamoured. 

At length the very sloop from which he had been 
knocked overboard prepared to make sail. Dolph made 
an awkward apology to his host for his sudden depart- 
ure. Antony Vander Heyden was sorely astonished. 
He had concerted half a dozen excursions into the wil- 
derness; and his Indians were actually preparing for a 
grand expedition to one of the lakes. He took Dolph 
aside, and exerted his eloquence to get him to abandon 
all thoughts of business and to remain with him, but in 
vain ; and he at length gave up the attempt, observing, 
"that it was a thousand pities so fine a young man 
should throw himself away." Heer Antony, however, 
gave him a hearty shake by the hand at parting, with a 
favorite fowling-piece, and an invitation to come to his 
house whenever he revisited Albany. The pretty Marie 
said nothing; but as he gave her a farewell kiss, her 
dimpled cheek turned pale, and a tear stood in her eye. 

Dolph sprang lightly on board of the vessel. They 



258 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

hoisted sail ; the wind was fair ; they soon lost sight of 
Albany, its green hills and embowered islands. They 
were wafted gayly past the Kaatskill Mountains, whose 
fairy heights were bright and cloudless. They passed 
prosperously through the highlands, without any moles- 
tation from the Dunderberg goblin and his crew; they 
swept on across Havers traw Bay, and by Croton Point, 
and through the Tappaan Zee, and under the Palisadoes, 
until, in the afternoon of the third day, they saw the 
promontory of Hoboken hanging like a cloud in the air; 
and, shortly after, the roofs of the Manhattoes rising out 
of the water. 

Dolph's first care was to repair to his mother's house ; 
for he was continually goaded by the idea of the un- 
easiness she must experience on his account. He was 
puzzling his brains, as he went along, to think how he 
should account for his absence without betraying the 
secrets of the haunted house. In the midst of these 
cogitations he entered the street in which his mother's 
house was situated, when he was thunderstruck at be- 
holding it a heap of ruins. 

There had evidently been a great fire, which had de- 
stroyed several large houses, and the humble dwelling of 
poor Dame Heyliger had been involved in the conflagra- 
tion. The walls were not so completely destroyed, but 
that Dolph could distinguish some traces of the scene of 
his childhood. The fireplace, about which he had often 
played, still remained, ornamented with Dutch tiles, 
illustrating passages in Bible history, on which he had 
many a time gazed with admiration. Among the rubbish 



DOLPH HEYLTGER. 259 

lay the wreck of the good dame's elbow-chair, from 
which she had given him so many a wholesome precept ; 
and hard by it was the family Bible, with brass clasps ; 
now, alas ! reduced almost to a cinder. 

For a moment Dolph was overcome by this dismal 
sight, for he was seized with the fear that his mother 
had perished in the flames. He was relieved, however, 
from this horrible apprehension by one of the neighbors, 
who happened to come by and informed him that his 
mother was yet alive. 

The good woman had, indeed, lost everything by this 
unlooked-for calamity ; for the populace had been so 
intent upon saving the fine furniture of her rich neigh- 
bors, that the little tenement, and the little all of poor 
Dame Heyliger, had been suffered to consume without 
interruption ; nay, had it not been for the gallant assist- 
ance of her old crony, Peter de Groodt, the worthy 
dame and her cat might have shared the fate of their 
habitation. 

As it was, she had been overcome with fright and 
affliction, and lay ill in body and sick at heart. The 
public, however, had showed her its wonted kindness. 
The furniture of her rich neighbors being, as far as 
possible, rescued from the flames, themselves duly and 
ceremoniously visited and condoled with on the injury 
of their property, and their ladies commiserated on the 
agitation of their nerves ; the public, at length, began to 
recollect something about poor Dame Heyliger. She 
forthwith became again a subject of universal sympathy; 
everybody pitied her more than ever ; and if pity could 



260 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

but have been coined into cash — good Lord ! how rich 
she would have been ! 

It was now determined, in good earnest, that something 
ought to be done for her without delay. The Dominie, 
therefore, put up prayers for her on Sunday, in which 
all the congregation joined most heartily. Even Cobus 
Groesbeek, the alderman, and Mynheer Milledollar, the 
great Dutch merchant, stood up in their pews, and did 
not spare their voices on the occasion ; and it was thought 
the prayers of such great men could not but have their 
due weight. Doctor Kmpperhausen, too, visited her 
professionally, and gave her abundance of advice gratis, 
and was universally lauded for his charity. As to her 
old friend, Peter de Groodt, he was a poor man, whose 
pity, and prayers, and advice could be of but little avail, 
so he gave her all that was in his power — he gave her 
shelter. 

To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt, then, did 
Dolph turn his steps. On his way thither he recalled 
all the tenderness and kindness of his simple-hearted 
parent, her indulgence of his errors, her blindness to his 
faults ; and then he bethought himself of his own idle, 
harum-scarum life. " I've been a sad scapegrace," said 
Dolph, shaking his head sorrowfully. " I've been a com- 
plete sink-pocket, that's the truth of it. — But," added 
he briskly, and clasping his hands, " only let her live — 
only let her live — and I'll show myself indeed a son ! " 

As Dolph approached the house he met Peter de 
Groodt coming out of it. The old man started back 
aghast, doubting whether it was not a ghost that stood 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 261 

before him. It being bright daylight, however, Peter 
soon plucked up heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show 
his face in such clear sunshine. Dolph now learned from 
the worthy sexton the consternation and rumor to which 
his mysterious disappearance had given rise. It had 
been universally believed that he had been spirited away 
by those hobgoblin gentry that infested the haunted 
house ; and old Abraham Vandozer, who lived by the great 
buttonwood-trees, near the three-mile stone, affirmed, 
that he had heard a terrible noise in the air, as he was 
going home late at night, which seemed just as if a 
flock of wild geese were overhead, passing off towards 
the northward. The haunted house was, in consequence, 
looked upon with ten times more awe than ever ; nobody 
would venture to pass a night in it for the world, and 
even the doctor had ceased to make his expeditions to it 
in the daytime. 

It required some preparation before Dolph's return 
could be made known to his mother, the poor soul having 
bewailed him as lost ; and her spirits having been sorely 
broken down by a number of comforters, who daily 
cheered her with stories of ghosts, and of people carried 
away by the devil. He found her confined to her bed, 
with the other member of the Heyliger family, the good 
dame's cat, purring beside her, but sadly singed, and 
utterly despoiled of those whiskers which were the glory 
of her physiognomy. The poor woman threw her arms 
about Dolph's neck. " My boy ! my boy ! art thou still 
alive ? " For a time she seemed to have forgotten all 
her losses and troubles in her joy at his return. Even 



262 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the sage grimalkin showed indubitable signs of joy at 
the return of the youngster. She saw, perhaps, that 
they were a forlorn and undone family, and felt a touch 
of that kindliness which fellow-sufferers only know. 
But, in truth, cats are a slandered people ; they have 
more affection in them than the world commonly gives 
them credit for. 

The good dame's eyes glistened as she saw one being 
at least, beside herself, rejoiced at her son's return. 
" Tib knows thee ! poor dumb beast ! " said she, smooth- 
ing down the mottled coat of her favorite ; then recol- 
lecting herself, with a melancholy shake of the head, 
" Ah, my poor Dolph ! " exclaimed she, " thy mother can 
help thee no longer ! She can no longer help herself ! 
What will become of thee, my poor boy ! " 

" Mother," said Dolph, " don't talk in that strain ; I've 
been too long a charge upon you ; it's now my part to 
take care ' of you in your old days. Come ! be of good 
cheer ! you, and I, and Tib will all see better days. I'm 
here, you see, young, and sound, and hearty ; then don't 
let us despair; I dare say things will all, somehow or 
other, turn out for the best. " 

While this scene was going on with the Heyliger 
family, the news was carried to Doctor Knipperhausen 
of the safe return of his disciple. The little doctor 
scarce knew whether to rejoice or be sorry at the tidings. 
He was happy at having the foul reports which had 
prevailed concerning his country mansion thus disproved ; 
but he grieved at having his disciple, of whom he had 
supposed himself fairly disencumbered, thus drifting 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 263 

back, a heavy charge upon his hands. While balancing 
between these two feelings, he was determined by the 
counsels of Frau Ilsy, who advised him to take advan- 
tage of the truant absence of the youngster, and shut 
the door upon him forever. 

At the hour of bedtime, therefore, when it was sup- 
posed the recreant disciple would seek his old quarters, 
everything was prepared for his reception. Dolph, hav- 
ing talked his mother into a state of tranquillity, sought 
the mansion of his quondam master, and raised the 
knocker with a faltering hand. Scarcely, however, had 
it given a dubious rap, when the doctor's head, in a red 
nightcap, popped out of one window, and the house- 
keeper's, in a white nightcap, out of another. He was 
now greeted with a tremendous volley of hard names 
and hard language, mingled with invaluable pieces of 
advice, such as are seldom ventured to be given except- 
ing to a friend in distress, or a culprit at the bar. In a 
few moments, not a window in the street but had its 
particular nightcap, listening to the shrill treble of Frau 
Ilsy, and the guttural croaking of Dr. Knipperhausen ; 
and the word went from window to window, " Ah ! here's 
Dolph Heyliger come back, and at his old pranks again." 
In short, poor Dolph found he was likely to get nothing 
from the doctor but good advice ; a commodity so abun- 
dant as even to be thrown out of the window ; so he was 
fain to beat a retreat, and take up his quarters for the 
night under the lowly roof of honest Peter de Gfroodt. 

The next morning, bright and early, Dolph was out at 
the haunted house. Everything looked just as he had 



264 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

left it. The fields were grass-grown and matted, and ap- 
peared as if nobody had traversed them since his depart- 
ure. With palpitating heart he hastened to the well. 
He looked down into it, and saw that it was of great 
depth, with water at the bottom. He had provided him- 
self with a strong line, such as the fishermen use on the 
banks of Newfoundland. At the end was a heavy 
plummet and a large fish-hook. With this he began to 
sound the bottom of the well, and to angle about in the 
water. The water was of some depth; there was also 
much rubbish, stones from the top having fallen in. 
Several times his hook got entangled, and he came near 
breaking his line. Now and then, too, he hauled up 
mere trash, such as the skull of a horse, an iron hoop, 
and a shattered iron-bound bucket. He had now been 
several hours employed without finding anything to repay 
his trouble, or to encourage him to proceed. He began 
to think himself a great fool, to be thus decoyed into a 
wild-goose chase by mere dreams, and was on the point 
of throwing line and all into the well, and giving up all 
further angling. 

" One more cast of the line," said he, " and that shall 
be the last." As he sounded, he felt the plummet slip, 
as it were, through the interstices of loose stones ; and 
as he drew back the line, he felt that the hook had taken 
hold of something heavy. He had to manage his line 
with great caution, lest it should be broken by the 
strain upon it. By degrees the rubbish which lay upon 
the article he had hooked gave way ; he drew it to the 
surface of the water, and what was his rapture at seeing 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 265 

something like silver glittering at the end of his line ! 
Almost breathless with anxiety, he drew it up to the 
mouth of the well, surprised at its great weight, and fear- 
ing every instant that his hook would slip from its hold, 
and his prize tumble again to the bottom. At length he 
landed it safe beside the well. It was a great silver 
porringer, of an ancient form, richly embossed, and with 
armorial bearings engraved on its side, similar to those 
over his mother's mantelpiece. The lid was fastened 
down by several twists of wire; Dolph loosened them 
with a trembling hand, and, on lifting the lid, behold ! 
the vessel was filled with broad golden pieces, of a coin- 
age which he had never seen before ! It was evident he 
had lit on the place where Killian Vander Spiegel had 
concealed his treasure. 

Fearful of being seen by some straggler, he cautiously 
retired, and buried his pot of money in a secret place. 
He now spread terrible stories about the haunted house, 
and deterred every one from approaching it, while he 
made frequent visits to it in stormy days, when no 
one was stirring in the neighboring fields ; though, to 
tell the truth, he did not care to venture there in the 
dark. For once in his life he was diligent and industri- 
ous, and followed up his new trade of angling with such 
perseverance and success, that in a little while he had 
hooked up wealth enough to make him, in those moderate 
days, a rich burgher for life. 

It would be tedious to detail minutely the rest of this 
story. To tell how he gradually managed to bring his 
property into use without exciting surprise and inquiry, 



266 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

— how he satisfied all scruples with regard to retaining 
the property, and at the same time gratified his own 
feelings by marrying pretty Marie Vander Heyden, — 
and how he and Heer Antony had many a merry and 
roving expedition together. 

I must not omit to say, however, that Dolph took his 
mother home to live with him, and cherished her in her 
old days. The good dame, too, had the satisfaction of 
no longer hearing her son made the theme of censure : 
on the contrary, he grew daily in public esteem ; every- 
body spoke well of him and his wines ; and the lordliest 
burgomaster was never known to decline his invitation to 
dinner. Dolph often related, at his own table, the 
wicked pranks which had once been the abhorrence of 
the town ; but they were now considered excellent jokes, 
and the gravest dignitary was fain to hold his sides 
when listening to them. No one was more struck with 
Dolph's increasing merit than his old master the doctor ; 
and so forgiving was Dolph, that he absolutely employed 
the doctor as his family physician, only taking care that 
his prescriptions should be always thrown out of the 
window. His mother had often her junto of old cronies 
to take a snug cup of tea with her in her comfortable 
little parlor ; and Peter de Groodt, as he sat by the fire- 
side, with one of her grandchildren on his knee, would 
many a time congratulate her upon her son turning out 
so great a man ; upon which the good old soul would 
wag her head with exultation, and exclaim, " Ah, neigh- 
bor, neighbor ! did I not say that Dolph would one day 
or other hold up his head with the best of them ? " 



DOLPH HEYLIGER. 267 

Thus did Dolph Heyliger go on, cheerily and prosper- 
ously, growing merrier as he grew older and wiser, and 
completely falsifying the old proverb about money got 
over the devil's back ; for he made good use of his 
wealth, and became a distinguished citizen, and a valu- 
able member of the community. He was a great pro- 
moter of public institutions, such as beef-steak societies 
and catch-clubs. He presided at all public dinners, and 
was the first that introduced turtle from the West Indies. 
He improved the breed of race-horses and game-cocks, 
and was so great a patron of modest merit, that any one 
who could sing a good song, or tell a good story, was 
sure to find a place at his table. 

He was a member, too, of the corporation, made sev- 
eral laws for the protection of game and oysters, and be- 
queathed to the board a large silver punch-bowl, made 
out of the identical porringer before mentioned, and 
which is in the possession of the corporation to this very 
day. 

Finally he died in a florid old age, of an apoplexy at 
a corporation feast, and was buried with great honors in 
the yard of the little Dutch church in Garden Street, 
where his tombstone may still be seen with a modest 
epitaph in Dutch, by his friend Mynheer Justus Benson, 
an ancient and excellent poet of the province. 

The foregoing tale rests on better authority than most 
tales of the kind, as I have it second-hand from the lips 
of Dolph Heyliger himself. He never related it till 
towards the latter part of his life, and then in great con- 
fidence (for he was very discreet) to a few of his par- 



268 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

ticular cronies at his own table, over a supernumerary 
howl of punch; and, strange as the hobgoblin parts of 
the story may seem, there never was a single doubt ex- 
pressed on the subject by any of his guests. It may not 
be amiss, before concluding, to observe that, in addition 
to his other accomplishments, Dolph Heyliger was 
noted for being the ablest drawer of the long-bow in the 
whole province. 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1^92. 269 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1492. 

The situation of Columbus was daily becoming more 
and more critical. In proportion as lie approached the 
regions where he expected to find land, the impatience 
of his crews augmented. The favorable signs which 
increased his confidence were derided by them as delu- 
sive ; and there was danger of their rebelling, and obli- 
ging him to turn back, when on the point of realizing the 
object of all his labors. They beheld themselves with 
dismay still wafted onward, over the boundless wastes 
of what appeared to them a mere watery desert, sur- 
rounding the habitable world. What was to become of 
them should their provisions fail ? Their ships were too 
weak and defective even for the great voyage they had 
already made ; but if they were still to press forward, 
adding at every moment to the immense expanse behind 
them, how should they ever be able to return, having no 
intervening port where they might victual and refit ? 

In this way they fed each other's discontents, gather- 
ing together in little knots, and fomenting a spirit of 
mutinous opposition : and when we consider the natural 
fire of the Spanish temperament and its impatience of 
control ; and that a great part of these men were sailing 
on compulsion ; we cannot wonder that there was immi- 
nent danger of their breaking forth into open rebellion 



270 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

and compelling Columbus to turn back. In their secret 
conferences they exclaimed against him as a desperado, 
bent, in a mad fantasy, upon doing something extrava- 
gant to render himself notorious. What were their suf- 
ferings and dangers to one evidently content to sacrifice 
his own life for the chance of distinction ? What obliga- 
tions bound them to continue on with him ; or when were 
the terms of their agreement to be considered as fulfilled ? 
They had already penetrated unknown seas, untraversed 
by a sail, far beyond where man had ever before ventured. 
They had done enough to gain themselves a character 
for courage and hardihood in undertaking such an enter- 
prise, and persisting in it so far. How much farther 
were they to go in quest of a merely conjectured land? 
Were they to sail on until they perished, or until all 
return became impossible ? In such case they would 
become the authors of their own destruction. 

On the other hand, should they consult their safety, 
and turn back before too late, who would blame them ? 
Any complaints made by Columbus would be of no 
weight ; he was a foreigner, without friends or influence ; 
his schemes had been condemned by the learned, and 
discountenanced by people of all ranks. He had no 
party to uphold him, and a host of opponents whose 
pride of opinion would be gratified by his failure. Or, 
as an effectual means of preventing his complaints, they 
might throw him into the sea, and give out that he had 
fallen overboard while busy with his instruments con- 
templating the stars ; a report which no one would have 
either the inclination or the means to controvert. 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1492. 271 

Columbus was not ignorant of the mutinous disposi- 
tion of his crew; but he still maintained a serene and 
steady countenance, soothing some with gentle words, 
endeavoring to stimulate the pride or avarice of others, 
and openly menacing the refractory with signal punish- 
ment, should they do anything to impede the voyage. 

On the 25th of September, the wind again became 
favorable, and they were able to resume their course 
directly to the west. The airs being light, and the sea 
calm, the vessels sailed near to each other, and Columbus 
had much conversation with Martin Alonzo Pinzon on 
the subject of a chart, which the former had sent three 
days before on board of the Pinta. Pinzon thought that, 
according to the indications of the map, they ought to be 
in the neighborhood of Cipango, and the other islands 
which the admiral had therein delineated. Columbus 
partly entertained the same idea, but thought it possible 
that the ships might have been borne out of their track 
by the prevalent currents, or that they had not come so 
far as the pilots had reckoned. He desired that the 
chart might be returned ; and Pinzon, tying it to the end 
of a cord, flung it on board to him. While Columbus, 
his pilot, and several of his experienced mariners were 
studying the map, and endeavoring to make out from it 
their actual position, they heard a shout from the Pinta, 
and looking up, beheld Martin Alonzo Pinzon mounted 
on the stern of his vessel, crying " Land ! land ! Sefior, I 
claim my reward ! " He pointed at the same time to the 
southwest, where there was indeed an appearance of land 
at about twenty-five leagues' distance. Upon this Colum- 



272 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

bus threw himself on his knees and returned thanks to 
God : and Martin Alonzo repeated the Gloria in excelsis, 
in which he was joined by his own crew and that of the 
admiral. 

The seamen now mounted to the mast-head or climbed 
about the rigging, straining their eyes in the direction 
pointed out. The conviction became so general of land 
in that quarter, and the joy of the people so ungovern- 
able, that Columbus found it necessary to vary from his 
usual course, and stand all night to the south-west. The 
morning light, however, put - an end to all their hopes, as 
to a dream. The fancied land proved to be nothing but 
an evening cloud, and had vanished in the night. With 
dejected hearts they once more resumed their western 
course, from which Columbus would never have varied, 
but in compliance with their clamorous wishes. For 
several days they continued on with the same propitious 
breeze, tranquil sea, and mild, delightful weather. The 
water was so calm that the sailors amused themselves 
with swimming about the vessel. Dolphins began to 
abound, and flying fish, darting into the air, fell upon 
the decks. The continued signs of land diverted the 
attention of the crews, and insensibly beguiled them 
onward. 

On the 1st of October, according to the reckoning of 
the pilot of the admiral's ship, they had come five hun- 
dred and eighty leagues west since leaving the Canary 
Islands. The reckoning which Columbus showed the 
crew, was five hundred and eighty-four, but the reckoning 
which he kept privately was seven hundred and seven. 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1J+92. 273 

On the following day, the weeds floated from east 
to west ; and on the third day no birds were to be 
seen. 

The crews now began to fear that they had passed 
between islands, from one to the other of which the 
birds had been flying. Columbus had also some doubts 
of the kind, but refused to alter his westward course. 
The people again uttered murmurs and menaces ; but on 
the following day they were visited by such flights of 
birds, and the various indications of land became so 
numerous, that from a state of despondency they passed 
to one of confident expectation. 

Eager to obtain the promised pension, the seamen were 
continually giving the cry of land, on the least appear- 
ance of the kind. To put a stb-p to these false alarms, 
which produced continual disappointments, Columbus de- 
clared that should any one give such notice, and land not 
be discovered within three days afterwards, he should 
thenceforth forfeit all claim to the reward. 

On the evening of the 6th of October, Martin Alonzo 
Pinzon began to lose confidence in their present course, 
and proposed that they should stand more to the south- 
ward. Columbus, however, still persisted in steering 
directly west. Observing this difference of opinion in a 
person so important in his squadron as Pinzon, and fear- 
ing that chance or design might scatter the ships, he 
ordered that, should either of the caravels be separated 
from him, it should stand to the west, and endeavor as 
soon as possible to join company again ; he directed, 
also, that the vessels should keep near to him at sun- 



274 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

rise and sunset, as at these times the state of the atmos- 
phere is most favorable to the discovery of distant 
land. 

On the morning of the 7th of October, at sunrise, sev- 
eral of the admiral's crew thought they beheld land in 
the west, but so indistinctly that no one ventured to 
proclaim it, lest he should be mistaken, and forfeit all 
chance of the reward : the Nina, however, being a good 
sailer, pressed forward to ascertain the fact. In a little 
while a flag was hoisted at her mast-head, and a gun 
discharged, being the preconcerted signals for land. 
New joy was awakened throughout the little squadron, 
and every eye was turned to the west. As they ad- 
vanced, however, their cloud-built hopes faded away, 
and before evening the fancied land had. again melted 
into air. 

The crews now sank into a degree of dejection propor- 
tioned to their recent excitement j but new circumstances 
occurred to arouse them. Columbus, having observed 
great flights of small field-birds going towards the south- 
west, concluded they must be secure of some neighboring 
land, where they would find food and a resting-place. 
He knew the importance which the Portuguese voyagers 
attached to the flight of birds, by following which they 
had discovered most of their islands. He had now come 
seven hundred and fifty leagues, the distance at which 
he had computed to find the island of Cipango ; as there 
was no appearance of it, he might have missed it through 
some mistake in the latitude. He determined, therefore, 
on the evening of the 7th of October to alter his course 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, U92. 275 

to the west-south-west, the direction in which the birds 
generally flew, and continue that direction for at least 
two days. After all, it was no great deviation from his 
main course, and would meet the wishes of the Pinzons, 
as well as be inspiriting to his followers generally. 

For three days they stood in this direction, and the 
further they went the more frequent and encouraging 
were the signs of land. Flights of small birds of various 
colors, some of them such as sing in the fields, came fly- 
ing about the ships, and then continued towards the 
south-west, and others were heard also flying by in the 
night. Funny fish played about the smooth sea, and 
a heron, a pelican, and a duck, were seen, all bound in 
the same direction. The herbage which floated by was 
fresh and green, as if recently from land, and the air, 
Columbus observes, was sweet and fragrant as April 
breezes in Seville. 

All these, however, were regarded by the crews as so 
many delusions beguiling them on to destruction ; and 
when on the evening of the third day they beheld the 
sun go down upon a shoreless ocean, they broke forth 
into turbulent clamor. They exclaimed against this 
obstinacy in tempting fate by continuing on into a 
boundless sea. They insisted upon turning homeward, 
and abandoning the voyage as hopeless. Columbus en- 
deavored to pacify them by gentle words and promises 
of large rewards ; but finding that they only increased 
in clamor, he assumed a decided tone. He told them it 
was useless to murmur ; the expedition had been sent 
by the sovereigns to seek the Indies, and, happen what 



276 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

might, lie was determined to persevere, until, by the 
blessing of God, he should accomplish the enterprise. 1 

1 Hist, del Almirante, cap. 20. Las Casas, lib. i., Journal of 
Columb., Navarrete, Colec. torn. i. p. 19. 

It has been asserted by various historians, that Columbus, a day 
or two previous to coming in sight of the New World, capitulated 
with his mutinous crew, promising, if he did not discover land within 
three days, to abandon the voyage. There is no authority for such 
an assertion, either in the history of his son Fernando, or that of the 
Bishop Las Casas, each of whom had the admiral's papers before him. 
There is no mention of such a circumstance in the extracts made 
from the journal by Las Casas, which have recently been brought to 
light, nor is it asserted by either Peter Martyr or the Curate of Los 
Palacios, both contemporaries and acquaintances of Columbus, and 
who could scarcely have failed to mention so striking a fact, if true. 
It rests merely upon the authority of Oviedo, who is of inferior credit 
to either of the authors above cited, and was grossly misled as to 
many of the particulars of this voyage by a pilot of the name of 
Hernan Perez Matheo, who was hostile to Columbus. In the manu- 
script process of the memorable lawsuit between Don Diego, son of 
the admiral, and the fiscal of the crown, is the evidence of one 
Pedro de Bilbas, who testifies that he heard many times that some of 
the pilots and mariners wished to turn back, but that the admiral 
promised them presents, and entreated them to wait two or three 
days, before which time he should discover land. 

On the other hand, it was asserted by some of the witnesses in the 
above-mentioned suit, that Columbus, after having proceeded some 
few hundred leagues without finding land, lost confidence, and wished 
to turn back ; but was persuaded and even piqued to continue by the 
Pinzons. This assertion carries falsehood on its very face. It is in 
total contradiction to that persevering constancy and undaunted res- 
olution displayed by Columbus, not merely in the present voyage, 
but from first to last of his difficult and dangerous career. This testi- 
mony was given by some of the mutinous men, anxious to exaggerate 
the merits of the Pinzons, and to depreciate that of Columbus. Fortu- 
nately, the extracts from the journal of the latter, written from day 
to day with guileless simplicity, and all the air of truth, disprove 
these fables, and show that on the very day previous to his discovery, 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, U92. 277 

Columbus was now at open defiance with his crew, and 
his situation became desperate. Fortunately the mani- 
festations of the vicinity of land were such on the fol- 
lowing day as no longer to admit a doubt. Beside a 
quantity of fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they 
saw a green fish of a kind which keeps about rocks ; 
then a branch of thorn with berries on it, and recently 
Separated from the tree, floated by them ; then they 
picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a staff 
artificially carved. All gloom and mutiny now gave way 
to sanguine expectation; and throughout the day each 
one was eagerly on the watch, in hopes of being the first 
to discover the long-sought for land. 

In the evening, when, according to invariable custom 
on board the admiral's ship, the mariners had sung the 
salve regina, or vesper hymn to the Virgin, he made an 
impressive address to his crew. He pointed out the 
goodness of God in thus conducting them by soft and 
favoring breezes across a tranquil ocean, cheering their 
hopes continually with fresh signs, increasing as their 
fears augmented, and thus leading and guiding them to 
a promised land. He now reminded them of the orders 
he had given on leaving the Canaries, that, after sailing 
westward seven hundred leagues, they should not make 
sail after midnight. Present appearances authorized 
such a precaution. He thought it probable they would 
make land that very night ; he ordered, therefore, a vigi- 
lant lookout to be kept from the forecastle, promising to 

he expressed a peremptory determination to persevere, in defiance of 
all dangers and difficulties. 



278 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

whomsoever should make the discovery, a doublet of 
velvet, in addition to the pension to be given by the 
sovereigns. 

The breeze had been fresh all day, with more sea than 
usual, and they , had made great progress. At sunset 
they had stood again to the west, and were ploughing 
the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta keeping the lead, 
from her superior sailing. The greatest animation pre- 
vailed throughout the ship; not an eye was closed that 
night. As the evening darkened, Columbus took his 
station on the top of the castle or cabin on the high poop 
of his vessel, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, 
and maintaining an intense and unremitting watch. 
About ten o'clock, he thought he beheld a light glimmer- 
ing at a great distance. Fearing his eager hopes might 
deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of 
the king's bed-chamber, and inquired whether he saw 
such a light; the latter replied in the affirmative. 

Doubtful whether it might not yet be some delusion 
of the fancy, Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez of Sego- 
via, and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter 
had ascended the round-house, the light had disappeared. 
They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and 
passing gleams; as if it were a torch in the bark of a 
fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves ; or in the 
hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he 
walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain 
were these gleams, that few attached any importance to 
them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain 
signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited. 



COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1J&2. 279 

They continued their course until two in the morning, 
when a gun from the Pinta gave the joyful signal of 
land. It was first descried by a mariner named Eodrigo 
de Triana; but the reward was afterwards adjudged to 
the admiral, for having previously perceived the light. 
The land was now clearly seen about two leagues distant, 
whereupon they took in sail, and laid to, waiting impa- 
tiently for the dawn. 

The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little 
space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. 
At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he 
had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the 
ocean was revealed ; his theory, which had been the scoff 
of sages, was triumphantly established; he had secured 
to himself a glory durable as the world itself. 

It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man, 
at such a moment ; or the conjectures which must have 
thronged upon his mind, as to the land before him, 
covered with darkness. That it was fruitful, was evi- 
dent from the vegetables which floated from its shores. 
He thought, too, that he perceived the fragrance of 
aromatic groves. The moving light he had beheld 
proved it the residence of man. But what were its 
inhabitants ? Were they like those of the other parts of 
the globe; or were they some strange and monstrous 
race, such as the imagination was prone in those times 
to give to all remote and unknown regions? Had he 
come upon some wild island far in the Indian Sea; or 
was this the famed Cipanzo itself, the object of his 
golden fancies? A thousand speculations of the kind 



280 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

must have swarmed upon him, as, with his anxious 
crews, he waited for the night to pass away ; wondering 
whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilder- 
ness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, 
and gilded cities, and all the splendor of Oriental civili- 
zation. 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 281 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 

The night preceding the surrender was a night of dole- 
ful lamentings, within the walls of the Alhambra ; for 
the household of Boabdil were preparing to take a last 
farewell of that delightful abode. All the royal treas- 
ures and most precious effects were hastily packed upon 
mules ; the beautiful apartments were despoiled, with 
tears and wailings, by their own inhabitants. Before 
the dawn of day, a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely 
out of a postern-gate of the Alhambra, and departed 
through one of the most retired quarters of the city. It 
was composed of the family of the unfortunate Boabdil, 
which he sent off thus privately, that they might not be 
exposed to the eyes of ' scoffers, or the exultation of the 
enemy. The mother of Boabdil, the Sultana Ayxa la 
Horra, rode on in silence, with dejected yet dignified 
demeanor; but his wife, Morayma, and all the females 
of his household, gave way to loud lamentations, as they 
looked back upon their favorite abode, now a mass of 
gloomy towers behind them. They were attended by 
the ancient domestics of the household, and by a small 
guard of veteran Moors, loyally attached to the fallen 
monarch, and who would have sold their lives dearly in 
defence of his family. The city was yet buried in sleep, 
as they passed through its silent streets. The guards at 



282 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

the gate shed tears, as they opened it for their departure. 
They paused not, but proceeded along the banks of the 
Xenil on the road that leads to the Alpuxarras, until 
they arrived at a hamlet at some distance from the city, 
where they halted, and waited until they should be 
joined by King Boabdil. 

The night which had passed so gloomily in the sump- 
tuous halls of the Alhambra, had been one of joyful 
anticipation in the Christian camp. In the evening 
proclamation had been made that Granada was to be 
surrendered on the following day, and the troops were 
all ordered to assemble at an early hour under their sev- 
eral banners. The cavaliers, pages, and esquires were all 
charged to array themselves in their richest and most 
splendid style, for the occasion; and even the royal 
family determined to lay by the mourning they had 
recently assumed for the sudden death of the prince of 
Portugal, the husband of the princess Isabella. In a 
clause of the capitulation it had been stipulated that the 
troops destined to take possession, should not traverse 
the city, but should ascend to the Alhambra by a road 
opened for the purpose outside of the walls. This was 
to spare the feelings of the afflicted inhabitants, and to 
prevent any angry collision between them and their 
conquerors. So rigorous was Ferdinand in enforcing 
this precaution, that the soldiers were prohibited under 
pain of death from leaving the ranks to enter into the 
city. 

The rising sun had scarce shed his rosy beams upon 
the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada, when three sig- 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 283 

nal guns boomed heavily from the lofty fortress of the 
Alhambra. It was the concerted sign that all was ready 
for the surrender. The Christian army forthwith poured 
out of the city, or rather camp, of Santa Pe, and ad- 
vanced across the vega. The king and queen, with the 
prince and princess, the dignitaries and ladies of the 
court, took the lead, accompanied by the different orders 
of monks and friars, and surrounded by the royal guards 
splendidly arrayed. The procession moved slowly for- 
ward, and paused at the village of Armilla, at the dis- 
tance of half a league from the city. 

In the mean time, the grand cardinal of Spain, Don 
Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, escorted by three thousand 
foot and a troop of cavalry, and accompanied by the com- 
mander, Don Gutierrez de Cardenas, and a number of 
prelates and hidalgos, crossed the Xenil and proceeded in 
the advance, to ascend to the Alhambra and take posses- 
sion of that royal palace and fortress. The road which 
had been opened for the purpose led by the Puerta de los 
Molinos, or Gate of Mills, up a defile to the esplanade 
on the summit of the Hill of Martyrs. At the approach 
of this detachment, the Moorish king sallied forth from 
a postern-gate of the Alhambra, having left his vizier 
Yusef Aben Comixa to deliver up the palace. The gate 
by which he sallied passed through a lofty tower of the 
outer wall, called the Tower of the Seven Floors. He 
was accompanied by fifty cavaliers, and approached the 
grand cardinal on foot. The latter immediately alighted, 
and advanced to meet him with the utmost respect. 
They stepped aside a few paces, and held a brief conver- 



284 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

sation in an undertone, when Boabdil, raising his voice, 
exclaimed, " Go, Senor, and take possession of those for- 
tresses in the name of the powerful sovereigns, to whom 
God has been pleased to deliver them in reward of their 
great merits, and in punishment of the sins of the 
Moors." The grand cardinal sought to console him in 
his reverses, and offered him the use of his own tent 
during any time he might sojourn in the camp. Boabdil 
thanked him for the courteous offer, adding some words 
of melancholy import, and then taking leave of him 
gracefully, passed mournfully on to meet the Catholic 
sovereigns, descending to the vega by the same road by 
which the cardinal had come. The latter, with the prel- 
ates and cavaliers who attended him, entered the Al- 
hambra, the gates of which were thrown wide open by 
the alcayde Aben Comixa. At the same time the Moor- 
ish guards yielded up their arms, and the towers and 
battlements were taken possession of by the Christian 
troops. 

While these transactions were passing in the Alham- 
bra and its vicinity, the sovereigns remained with their 
retinue and guards near the village of Armilla, their 
eyes fixed on the towers of the royal fortress, watching 
for the appointed signal of possession. The time that 
had elapsed since the departure of the detachment 
seemed to them more than necessary for the purpose, 
and the anxious mind of Ferdinand began to entertain 
doubts of some commotion in the city. At length thej^ 
saw the silver cross, the great standard of this crusade, 
elevated on the Torre de la Vela, or Great Watch-Tower, 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 285 

and sparkling in the sunbeams. This was done by Her- 
nando de Talavera, bishop of Avila. Beside it was 
planted the pennon of the glorious apostle St. James, and 
a great shout of " Santiago ! Santiago ! " rose through- 
out the army. Lastly was reared the royal standard by 
the king of arms, with the shout of " Castile ! Castile ! 
for King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella." The words 
were echoed by the whole army, with acclamations that 
resounded across the Vega. At sight of these signals 
of possession, the sovereigns sank upon their knees, 
giving thanks to God for this great triumph ; the whole 
assembled host followed their example, and the chorister 
of the royal chapel broke forth into the solemn anthem 
of " Te Deum Laudamus." 

The king now advanced with a splendid escort of cav- 
alry and the sound of trumpets, until he came to a small 
mosque near the banks of Xenil, and not far from the 
foot of the Hill of Martyrs, which edifice remains to the 
present day consecrated as the hermitage of St. Sebas- 
tian. Here he beheld the unfortunate king of Granada 
approaching on horseback, at the head of his slender 
retinue. Boabdil, as he drew near, made a movement to 
dismount, but, as had previously been concerted, Ferdi- 
nand prevented him. He then offered to kiss the king's 
hand, which, according to arrangement, was likewise de- 
clined, whereupon he leaned forward and kissed the 
king's right arm ; at the same time he delivered the keys 
of the city with an air of mingled melancholy and resig- 
nation. "These keys," said he, "are the last relics of 
the Arabian empire in Spain : thine, king, are our 



286 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

trophies, our kingdom, and our person. Such is the will 
of God ! Receive them with the clemency thou hast 
promised, and which we look for at thy hands." 

King Ferdinand restrained his exultation into an air 
of serene magnanimity. "Doubt not our promises," re- 
plied he, " nor that thou shalt regain from our friendship 
the prosperity of which the fortune of war has deprived 
thee." 

Being informed that Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, 
the good count of Tendilla, was to be governor of the 
city, Boabdil drew from his finger a gold ring set with a 
precious stone, and presented it to the count. "With 
this ring," said he, " Granada has been governed ; take 
it and govern with it, and God make you more fortunate 
than I." * 

He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where 
the Queen Isabella remained with her escort and attend- 
ants. The queen, like her husband, declined all acts of 
homage, and received him with her accustomed grace 
and benignity. She at the same time delivered to him 
his son, who had been held as a hostage for the fulfil- 
ment of the capitulation. Boabdil pressed his child to 
his bosom with tender emotion, and they seemed mutu- 
ally endeared to each other by their misfortunes. . 

Having rejoined his family, the unfortunate Boabdil 
continued on towards the Alpuxarras, that he might not 

1 This ring remained in the possession of the descendants of the 
count until the death of the marques Don Inigo, the last male heir, 
who died in Malaga without children in 1656. The ring was lost 
through inadvertence and ignorance of its value, Dona Maria, the 
sister of the marques, being absent in Madrid. 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 287 

behold the entrance of the Christians into his capital. 
His devoted band of Cavaliers followed him in gloomy 
silence ; but heavy sighs burst from their bosoms, as 
shouts of joy and strains of triumphant music were borne 
on the breeze from the victorious army. 

Having rejoined his family, Boabdil set forward with 
a heavy heart for his allotted residence in the Valley of 
Purchena. At two leagues distance, the cavalcade, wind- 
ing into the skirts of the Alpuxarras, ascended an emi- 
nence, commanding the last view of Granada. As they 
arrived at this spot, the Moors paused involuntarily, to 
take a farewell gaze at their beloved city, which a few 
steps more would shut from their sight forever. Never 
had it appeared so lovely in their eyes. The. sunshine, 
so bright in that transparent climate, lit up each tower 
and minaret, and rested gloriously upon the crowning 
battlements of the Alhambra ; while the Vega spread its 
enameled bosom of verdure below, glistening with the 
silver windings of the Xenil. The Moorish cavaliers 
gazed with a silent agony of tenderness and grief upon 
that delicious abode, the scene of their loves and pleas- 
ures. While they yet looked, a light cloud of smoke 
burst forth from the citadel, and presently a peal of 
artillery, faintly heard, told that the city was taken pos- 
session of, and the throne of the Moslem kings was lost 
forever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by misfortunes 
and overcharged with grief, could no longer contain 
itself : " Allah Achbar ! God is great ! " said he ; but 
the words of resignation died upon his lips, and he burst 
into tears. 



288 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

His mother, the intrepid Ayxa, was indignant at his 
weakness: " You do well," said she, "to weep like a 
woman for what you failed to defend like a man ! " 

The vizier Aben Comixa endeavored to console his 
royal master. "Consider, Seiior," said he, "that the 
most signal misfortunes often render men as renowned 
as the most prosperous achievements, provided they 
sustain them with magnanimity." 

The unhappy monarch, however, was not to be con- 
soled ; his tears continued to flow. " Allah Achbar ! " 
exclaimed he, "when did misfortunes ever equal mine ? " 

From this circumstance, the hill, which is not far 
from Padul, took the name of Peg Allah Achbar; but 
the point of view commanding the last prospect of Gra- 
nada is known among Spaniards by the name of El ultimo 
suspiro del Moro, or, " The last sigh of the Moor." 

Queen Isabella having joined the king, the royal pair, 
followed by a triumphant host, passed up the road by the 
Hill of Martyrs, and thence to the main entrance of 
the Alhambra. The grand cardinal awaited them under 
the lofty arch of the great Gate of Justice, accompanied 
by Don Gutierrez de Cardenas and Aben Comixa. Here 
King Ferdinand gave the keys which had been delivered 
up to him into the hands of the queen ; they were passed 
successively into the hands of the prince Juan, the grand 
cardinal, and finally into those of the count de Tendilla, 
in whose custody they remained, that brave cavalier 
having been named alcayde of the Alhambra, and cap- 
tain-general of Granada. 

The sovereigns did not remain long in the Alhambra 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 289 

on this first visit, but leaving a strong garrison there 
under the count de Tendilla, to maintain tranquillity in 
the palace and the subjacent city, returned to the camp 
at Santa Ee. 

We must not omit to mention a circumstance attend- 
ing the surrender of the city, which spoke eloquently to 
the hearts of the victors. As the royal army had ad- 
vanced in all the pomp of courtly and chivalrous array, 
a procession of a different kind came forth to meet it. 
This was composed of more than five hundred Christian 
captives, many of whom had languished for years in 
Moorish dungeons. Pale and emaciated, they came 
clanking their chains in triumph, and shedding tears of 
joy. They were received with tenderness by the sover- 
eigns. The king hailed them as good Spaniards, as men 
loyal and brave, as martyrs to the holy cause ; the queen 
distributed liberal relief among them with her own 
hands, and they passed on before the squadrons of the 
army, singing hymns of jubilee. 

The sovereigns forbore to enter the city until it should 
be fully occupied by their troops, and public tranquillity 
insured. All this was done under the vigilant super- 
intendence of the count de Tendilla, assisted by the 
marques of Yillena; and the glistening of Christian 
helms and lances along the walls and bulwarks, and the 
standards of the faith and of the realm flaunting from 
the towers, told that the subjugation of the city was 
complete. The proselyte prince, Cid Hiaya, now known 
by the Christian appellation of Don Pedro de Granada 
Yanegas, was appointed chief alguazil of the city, and 



290 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

had charge of the Moorish inhabitants; and his son, 
lately the prince Alnayer, now Alonzo de Granada 
Vanegas, was appointed admiral of the fleets. 

It was on the 6th of January, the day of kings and 
festival of the Epiphany, that the sovereigns made their 
triumphal entry with grand military parade. First 
advanced, we are told, a splendid escort of cavaliers in 
burnished armor, and superbly mounted. Then followed 
the prince Juan, glittering with jewels and diamonds; 
on each side of him, mounted on mules, rode the grand 
cardinal, clothed in purple, Fray Hernando de Talavera, 
bishop of Aria, and the archbishop elect of Granada. To 
these succeeded the queen and her ladies, and the king, 
managing in galliard style, say the Spanish chronicles, a 
proud and mettlesome steed (un caballo arrogante). 
Then followed the army in shining columns, with flaunt- 
ing banners and the inspiring clamor of military music. 
The king and queen (says the worthy Fray Antonio 
Agapida) looked, on this occasion, as more than, mortal: 
the venerable ecclesiastics, to whose advice and zeal this 
glorious conquest ought in a great measure to be attrib- 
uted, moved along with hearts swelling with holy exul- 
tation, but with chastened and downcast looks of edifying 
humility; while the hardy warriors, in tossing plumes 
and shining steel, seemed elevated with a stern joy at 
finding themselves in possession of this object of so 
many toils and perils. As the streets resounded with 
the tramp of steeds and swelling peals of music, the 
Moors buried themselves in the deepest recesses of their 
dwellings. There they bewailed in secret the fallen 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 291 

glory of their race, but suppressed their groans, lest they 
should be heard by their enemies, and increase their 
triumph. 

The royal procession advanced to the principal mosque, 
which had been consecrated as a cathedral. Here the 
sovereigns offered up prayers and thanksgiving, and the 
choir of the royal chapel chanted a triumphant anthem, 
in which they were joined by all the courtiers and 
cavaliers. Nothing (says Fray Antonio Agapida) could 
exceed the thankfulness to God of the pious King Ferdi- 
nand, for having enabled him to eradicate from Spain 
the empire and name- of that accursed heathen race, and 
for the elevation of the cross in that city wherein the 
impious doctrines of Mahomet had so long been cherished. 
In the fervor of his spirit, he supplicated from Heaven a 
continuance of its grace, and that this glorious triumph 
might he perpetuated. The prayer of the pious monarch 
was responded to by the people, and even his enemies 
were for once convinced of his sincerity. 

When the religious ceremonies were concluded, the 
court ascended to the stately palace of the Alhambra, 
and entered by the great Gate of Justice. The halls 
lately occupied by turbaned infidels now rustled with 
stately dames and Christian courtiers, who wandered 
with eager curiosity over this far-famed palace, admiring 
its verdant courts and gushing fountains, its halls deco- 
rated with elegant arabesques and storied with inscrip- 
tions, and the splendor of its gilded and brilliantly 
painted ceilings. 

It had been a last request of the unfortunate Boabdil, 



292 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

and one which showed how deeply he felt the transition 
of his fate, that no person might be permitted to enter 
or depart by the gate of the Alhambra, through which 
he had sallied forth to surrender his capital. His 
request was granted; the portal- was closed up, and 
remains so to the 'present day — a mute memorial of 
that event. 1 

The Spanish sovereigns fixed their throne in the 
presence-chamber of the palace, so long the seat of 
Moorish royalty. Hither the principal inhabitants of 
Granada repaired, to pay them homage and kiss their 
hands in token of vassalage ; and their example was fol- 
lowed by deputies from all the towns and fortresses of 
the Alpuxarras, which had not hitherto submitted. 

Thus terminated the war of Granada, after ten years 

1 Garibay, Compend. Hist. lib. 40, cap. 42. The existence of this 
gateway, and the story connected with it, are perhaps known to few ; 
but were identified, in the researches made to verify this history. 
The gateway is at the bottom of a tower, at some distance from the 
main body of the Alhambra. The tower had been rent and ruined by 
gunpowder, at the time when the fortress was evacuated by the 
French. Great masses lie around half covered by vines and fig-trees. 
A poor man, by the name of Mateo Ximenes, who lives in one of the 
halls among the ruins of the Alhambra, where his family has resided 
for many generations, pointed out to the author the gateway, still 
closed up with stones. He remembered to have heard his father and 
grandfather say, that it had always been stopped up, and that out of 
it King Boabdil had gone when he surrendered Granada. The route 
of the unfortunate king may be traced thence across the garden of 
the convent of Los Maryros, and down a ravine beyond, through a 
street of gypsy caves and hovels, by the gate of Los Molinos, and so 
on to the Hermitage of St. Sebastian. None but an antiquarian, 
however, will be able to trace it, unless aided by the humble historian 
of the place, Mateo Ximenes. 



SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 293 

of incessant fighting ; equalling (says Fray Antonio Aga- 
pida) the far-famed siege of Troy in duration, and ending, 
like that, in the capture of the city. Thus ended also the 
dominion of the Moors in Spain, having endured seven 
hundred and seventy-eight years, from the memorable 
defeat of Eoderick, the last of the Goths, on the banks 
of the G-audalete. The authentic Agapida is uncom- 
monly particular in fixing the epoch of this event. 
This great triumph of our holy Catholic faith, according 
to this computation, took place in the beginning of Jan- 
uary, in the year of our Lord 1492, being 3,655 years 
from the population of Spain by the patriarch Tubal; 
3,797 from the general deluge ; 5,453 from the creation 
of the world, according to Hebrew calculation ; and in 
the month Kabic, in the eight hundred and ninety-sev- 
enth year of the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet; whom 
may God confound ! saith the pious Agapida ! 



294 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the histori- 
cal and poetical, so inseparably intertwined in the annals 
of romantic Spain, the Alhambra is as much an object 
of devotion as is the Caaba to all true Moslems. How 
many legends and traditions, true and fabulous, — how 
many songs and ballads, Arabian and Spanish, of love 
and war and chivalry, are associated with this Oriental 
pile ! It was the royal abode of the Moorish kings, 
where, surrounded with the splendors and refinements of 
Asiatic luxury, they held dominion over what they 
vaunted as a terrestrial paradise, and made their last 
stand for empire in Spain. The royal palace forms but 
a part of a fortress, the walls of which, studded with 
towers, stretch irregularly round the whole crest of a 
hill, a spur of the Sierra Nevada or Snowy Mountains, 
and overlook the city ; externally it is a rude congrega- 
tion of towers and battlements, with no regularity of 
plan nor grace of architecture, and giving little promise 
of the grace and beauty which prevail within. 

In the time of the Moors the fortress was capable of 
containing within its outward precincts an army of forty 
thousand men, and served occasionally as a strong-hold 
of the sovereigns against their rebellious subjects. After 
the kingdom had passed into the hands of the Christians, 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 295 

the Alhambra continued to be a royal demesne, and was 
occasionally inhabited by the Castilian monarchs. The 
emperor Charles V. commenced a sumptuous palace 
within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by 
repeated shocks of earthquakes. The last royal resi- 
dents were Philip V. and his beautiful queen, Elizabetta 
of Parma, early in the eighteenth century. Great prep- 
arations were made for their reception. The palace and 
gardens were placed in a state of repair, and a new suite 
of apartments erected, and decorated by artists brought 
from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was tran- 
sient, and after their departure the palace once more 
became desolate. Still the place was maintained with 
some military state. The governor held it immediately 
from the crown, its jurisdiction extended down into the 
suburbs of the city, and was independent of the captain- 
general of Granada. A considerable garrison was kept 
up ; the governor had his apartments in the front of the 
old Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada 
without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, 
was a little town of itself, having several streets of 
houses within its walls, together with a Franciscan con- 
vent and a parochial church. 

The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow 
to the Alhambra. Its beautiful halls became desolate, 
and some of them fell to ruin, the gardens were de- 
stroyed, and the fountains ceased to play. By degrees 
the dwellings became filled with a loose and lawless pop- 
ulation ; contrabandistas, who availed themselves of its 
independent jurisdiction to carry on a wide and daring 



296 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues of all sorts, 
who made this their place of refuge whence they might 
depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong 
arm of government at length interfered ; the whole com- 
munity was thoroughly sifted ; none were suffered to 
remain but such as were of honest character, and had 
legitimate right to a residence ; the greater part of the 
houses were demolished and a mere hamlet left, with the 
parochial church and the Franciscan convent. During 
the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was in the 
hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by 
their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited 
by the French commander. With that enlightened taste 
which has ever distinguished the French nation in their 
conquests, this monument of Moorish elegance and gran- 
deur was rescued from the absolute ruin and desolation 
that were overwhelming it. The roofs were repaired, 
the saloons and galleries protected from the weather, the 
gardens cultivated, the watercourses restored, the foun- 
tains once more made to throw up their sparkling show- 
ers ; and Spain may thank her invaders for having 
preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting of 
her historical monuments. 

On the departure of the French they blew up several 
towers of the outer wall, and left the fortifications 
scarcely tenable. Since that time the military impor- 
tance of the post is at an end. The garrison is a handful 
of invalid soldiers, whose principal duty is to guard 
some of the outer towers, which serve occasionally as a 
prison of state ; and the governor, abandoning the lofty 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 297 

hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre of Granada, 
for the more convenient despatch of his official duties. 
I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the 
fortress without bearing testimony to the honorable 
exertions of its present commander, Don Francisco de 
Serna, who is tasking all the limited resources at his 
command to put the palace in a state of repair, and by 
his judicious precautions has for some time arrested its 
too certain decay. Had his predecessors discharged the 
duties of their station with equal fidelity, the Alhambra 
might yet have remained in almost its pristine beauty ; 
were government to second him with means equal to his 
zeal, this relic of it might still be preserved for many 
generations to adorn the land, and attract the curious 
and enlightened of every clime. 

Our first object of course, on the morning after our 
arrival, was a visit to this time-honored edifice ; it has 
been so often, however, and so minutely described by 
travellers, that I shall not undertake to give a compre- 
hensive and elaborate account of it, but merely occasional 
sketches of parts, with the incidents and associations 
connected with them. 

Leaving our posada, and traversing the renowned 
square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish 
jousts and tournaments, now a crowded market-place, 
we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main street of what, 
in the time of the Moors, was the Great Bazaar, and where 
small shops and narrow alleys still retain the Oriental 
character. Crossing an open place in front of the palace 
of the captain-general, we ascended a confined and wind- 



298 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

ing street, the name of which reminded us of the chival- 
ric days of Granada. It is called the Calle, or street of 
the Gomeres, from a Moorish family famous in chronicle 
and song. This street led up to the Puerta de las Gra- 
nadas, a massive gateway of Grecian architecture, built 
by Charles V., forming the entrance to the domains of 
the Alhambra. 

We entered the gate and found ourselves in a deep 
narrow ravine, filled with beautiful groves, with a steep 
avenue, and various footpaths winding through it, bor- 
dered with stone seats, and ornamented with fountains. 
To our left we beheld the towers of the Alhambra beet- 
ling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side of the 
ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on a 
rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres 
Vermejos, or vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy 
hue. No one knows their origin. They are of a date 
much anterior to the Alhambra : some suppose them to 
have been built by the Romans ; others, by some wander- 
ing colony of Phoenicians. Ascending the steep and 
shady avenue, we arrived at the foot of a huge square 
Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, through 
which passed the main entrance to the fortress. Within 
the barbican was a group of veteran invalids, one mount- 
ing guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in their 
tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal 
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held 
within its porch during the Moslem domination, for the 
immediate trial of petty causes : a custom common to 
the Oriental nations, and occasionally alluded to in the 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 299 

Sacred Scriptures. "Judges and officers shalt thou 
make thee in all thy gates, and they shall judge the 
people with just judgment." 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by 
an immense Arabian arch, of the horseshoe form, which 
springs to half the height of the tower. On the key- 
stone of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within 
the vestibule on the keystone of the portal, is sculptured, 
in like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to 
some knowledge of Mohammedan symbols, affirm that 
the hand is the emblem of doctrine, the five fingers des- 
ignating the five principal commandments of the creed 
of Islam, fasting, pilgrimage, alms-giving, ablution, and 
war against infidels. The key, say they, is the emblem 
of the faith or of power ; the key of Daoud, or David, 
transmitted to the prophet. " And the key of the house 
of David will I lay upon his shoulder ; so he shall open 
and none shall shut, and he shall shut and none shall 
open. (Isaiah xxii. 22.) The key we are told was em- 
blazoned on the standard of the Moslems in opposition 
to the Christian emblem of the cross, when they subdued 
Spain or Andalusia. It betokened the conquering power 
invested in the prophet. "He that hath the key of 
David, he that openeth and no man shutteth ; and 
shutteth and no man openeth." (Kev. iii. 7.) 

A different explanation of these emblems, however, 
and one more in unison with the notions of the common 
people, was a tradition handed down from the oldest 
inhabitants, that the hand and key were magical devices 
on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The 



300 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Moorish king who built it was a great magician, or, as 
some believed, had sold himself to the devil, and had 
laid the whole fortress nnder a magic spell. By this 
means it had remained standing for several years, in 
defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost all 
other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and dis- 
appeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say, 
would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach 
down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would 
tumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it 
by the Moors would be revealed. 

Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured 
to pass through the spell-bound gateway, feeling some 
little assurance against magic art in the protection of 
the Virgin, a statue of whom we observed above the 
portal. 

After passing through the barbican, we ascended a 
narrow lane, winding between walls, and came on an 
open esplanade within the fortress, called the Plaza de 
los Algibes, or place of the Cisterns, from great reservoirs 
which undermine it, cut in the living rock by the Moors 
to receive the water brought by conduits from the Darro, 
for the supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a well of 
immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest of 
water, — another monument of the delicate taste of the 
Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to 
obtain that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile com- 
menced by Charles V., and intended, it is said, to eclipse 
the residence of the Moorish kings. Much of the Ori- 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 301 

ental edifice intended for the winter season was demol- 
ished to make way for this massive pile. The grand 
entrance was blocked up; so that the present entrance 
to the Moorish palace is through a simple and almost 
humble portal in a corner. With all the massive gran- 
deur and architectural merit of the palace of Charles V., 
we regarded it as an arrogant intruder, and passing by it 
with a feeling almost of scorn, rang at the Moslem portal. 
We crossed the threshold, and were at once trans- 
ported, as if by magic wand, into other times and an 
Oriental realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian 
story. Nothing could be in greater contrast than the 
unpromising exterior of the pile with the scene now 
before us. We found ourselves in a vast patio or court, 
one hundred and fifty feet in length, and upwards of 
eighty feet in breadth, paved with white marble, and 
decorated at each end with light Moorish peristyles, one 
of which supported an elegant gallery of fretted archi- 
tecture. Along the mouldings of the cornices and on 
various parts of the walls were escutcheons and ciphers, 
and cufic and Arabic characters in high relief, repeating 
the pious mottoes of the Moslem monarchs, the builders 
of the Alhambra, or extolling their grandeur and munif- 
icence. Along the centre of the court extended an 
immense basin or tank (estanque), a hundred and 
twenty-four feet in length, twenty-seven in breadth, and 
five in depth, receiving its water from two marble vases. 
Hence it is called the Court of the Alberca (from al 
Beerkah, the Arabic for a pond or tank). Great num- 
bers of gold-fish were to be seen gleaming through the 



302 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

waters of the basin, and it was bordered by hedges of 
roses. 

Passing from the Court of the Alberca under a Moorish 
archway, we entered the renowned Court of Lions. No 
part of the edifice gives a more complete idea of its 
original beauty than this, for none has suffered so little 
from the ravages of time. In the centre stands the 
fountain famous in song and story. The alabaster 
basins still shed their diamond drops; the twelve lions 
which support them, and give the court its name, still 
cast forth crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. 
The lions, however, are unworthy of their fame, being of 
miserable sculpture, the work probably of some Chris- 
tian captive. The court is laid out in flower-beds, 
instead of its ancient and appropriate pavement of tiles 
or marble ; the alteration, an instance of bad taste, was 
made by the French when in possession of Granada. 
Eound the four sides of the court are light Arabian 
arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender 
pillars of white marble, which it is supposed were origi- 
nally gilded. The architecture, like that in most parts 
of the interior of the palace, is characterized by elegance 
rather than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and graceful 
taste, and a disposition to indolent enjoyment. When 
one looks upon the fairy traces of the peristyle, and the 
apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, it is difficult to 
believe that so much has survived the wear and tear of 
centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, the violence of war, 
and the quiet, though no less baneful, pilferings of the 
tasteful traveller; it is almost sufficient to excuse the 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 303 

popular tradition, that the whole is protected by a magic 
charm. 

On one side of the court a rich portal opens into the 
Hall of the Abencerrages : so called from the gallant 
cavaliers of that illustrious line who were here perfidi- 
ously massacred. 

Immediately opposite the Hall of the Abencerrages, a 
portal, richly adorned, leads into a hall of less tragical 
associations. It is light and lofty, exquisitely graceful 
in its architecture, paved with white marble, and bears 
the suggestive name of the Hall of the Two Sisters. 
Some destroy the romance of the name by attributing it 
to two enormous slabs of alabaster which lie side by side, 
and form a great part of the pavement : an opinion 
strongly supported by Mateo Ximenes. Others are dis- 
posed to give the name a more poetical significance, as 
the vague memorial of Moorish beauties who once graced 
this hall, which was evidently a part of the royal harem. 
This opinion I was happy to find entertained by our 
little bright-eyed guide, Dolores, who pointed to a bal- 
cony over an inner porch, which gallery, she had been 
told, belonged to the women's apartment. " You see, 
senor," said she, "it is all grated and latticed, like the 
gallery in a convent chapel where the nuns hear mass ; 
for the Moorish kings," added she, indignantly, " shut up 
their wives just like nuns." 

The latticed "jalousies," in fact, still remain, whence 
the dark-eyed beauties of the harem might gaze unseen 
upon the zambras and other dances and entertainments 
of the hall below. 



804 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

On each side of this hall are recesses or alcoves for 
ottomans and conches, on which the voluptuous lords of 
the Alhambra indulged in that dreamy repose so dear to 
the Orientalists. A cupola or lantern admits a tempered 
light from above and a free circulation of air ; while on 
one side is heard the refreshing sound of waters from 
the Fountain of the Lions, and on the other side the soft 
plash from the basin in the garden of Lindaraxa. 

It is impossible to contemplate this scene, so perfectly 
Oriental, without feeling the early associations of Ara- 
bian romance, and almost expecting to see the white arm 
of some mysterious princess beckoning from the gallery, 
or some dark eye sparkling through the lattice. The 
abode of beauty is here as if it had been inhabited but 
yesterday ; but where are the two sisters, where the 
Zoraydas and Lindaraxas ! 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the moun- 
tains by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout 
the palace, supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling 
in jets within its halls, or murmuring in channels along 
the marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to 
the royal pile, and visited its gardens and parterres, it 
flows down the long avenue leading to the city, tinkling 
in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining a per- 
petual verdure in those groves that embower and beau- 
tify the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those only who have sojourned in the ardent climates 
of the South can appreciate the delights of an abode 
combining the breezy coolness of the mountain with the 
freshness and verdure of the valley. While the city 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 305 

below pants with the noontide heat, and the parched 
Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the 
Sierra Nevada play through these lofty halls, bringing 
with them the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. 
Everything invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of 
southern climes ; and while the half-shut eye looks out 
from shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the 
ear is lulled by the rustling of groves and the murmur 
of running streams. 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its 
power of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the 
past, and thus clothing naked realities with the illusions 
of the memory and the imagination. As I delight to 
walk in these " vain shadows," I am prone to seek those 
parts of the Alhambra which are most favorable to this 
phantasmagoria of the mind; and none are more so than 
the Court of Lions, and its surrounding halls. Here the 
hand of time has fallen the lightest, and the traces of 
Moorish elegance and splendor exist in almost their 
original brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the foun- 
dations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers ; yet see ! 
not one of those slender columns has been displaced, not 
an arch of that light and fragile colonade given way, 
and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as 
unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, 
exists after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if 
from the hand of the Moslem artist. I write in the 
midst of these mementos of the past, in the fresh hour 
of early morning, in the fated Hall of the Abencerrages. 
The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument of 



306 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

their massacre, is before me; the lofty jet almost casts 
its dew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the 
ancient tale of violence and blood with the gentle and 
peaceful scene around! Everything here appears calcu- 
lated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for everything 
is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls tenderly 
from above, through the lantern of a dome tinted and 
wrought as if by fairy hands. Through the ample and 
fretted arch of the portal I behold the Court of Lions, 
with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades 
and sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives 
into the court, and, rising with a surge, darts away twit- 
tering over the roofs ; the busy bee toils humming among 
the flower-beds ; and painted butterflies hover from plant 
to plant, and flutter up and sport with each other in the 
sunny air. It needs but a slight exertion of the fancy 
to picture some pensive beauty of the harem, loitering in 
these secluded haunts of Oriental luxury. 

He, however, who would behold this scene under an 
aspect more in unison with its fortunes, let him come 
when the shadows of evening temper the brightness of 
the court, and throw a gloom into the surrounding halls. 
Then nothing can be more serenely melancholy, or more 
in harmony with the tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, 
whose deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper 
end of the court. Here was performed, in presence of 
Ferdinand and Isabella and their triumphant court, the 
pompous ceremonial of high mass, on taking possession 
of the Alhambra. The very cross is still to be seen 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 307 

upon the wall, where the altar was erected, and Avhere 
officiated the Grand Cardinal of Spain, and others of the 
highest religious dignitaries of the land. I picture to 
myself the scene when this place was filled with the 
conquering host, that mixture of mitred prelate and 
shaven monk, and steel-clad knight and silken courtier; 
when crosses and crosiers and religious standards were 
mingled with proud armorial ensigns and the banners of 
the haughty chiefs of Spain, and flaunted in triumph 
through these Moslem halls. I picture to myself Colum- 
bus, the future discoverer of a world, taking his modest 
stand in a remote corner, the humble and neglected spec- 
tator of the pageant. I see in imagination the Catholic 
sovereigns prostrating themselves before the altar, and 
pouring forth thanks for their victory ; while the vaults 
resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te 
Deum. 

The transient illusion is over, — the pageant melts 
from the fancy, — monarch, priest, and warrior return 
into oblivion with the poor Moslems over whom they 
exulted. The hall of their triumph is waste and deso- 
late. The bat flits about its twilight vault, and the owl 
hoots from the neighboring tower of Comares. 

In the course of a few evenings a thorough change 
took place in the scene and its associations. The moon, 
which when I took possession of my new apartments 
was invisible, gradually gained each evening upon the 
darkness of the night, and at length rolled in full splen- 
dor above the towers, pouring a flood of tempered light 



308 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

into every court and hall. The garden beneath my 
window, before, wrapped in gloom, was gently lighted 
up; the orange and citron trees were tipped with silver; 
the fountain sparkled in the moonbeams, and even the 
blush of the rose was faintly visible. 

I now felt the poetic merit of the Arabic inscription on 
the walls, — " How beauteous is this garden ; where the 
flowers of the earth vie with the stars of heaven. What 
can compare with the vase of yon alabaster fountain 
filled with crystal water ? nothing but the moon in her 
fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded sky ! " 

On such heavenly nights I would sit for hours at my 
window inhaling the sweetness of the garden, and mus- 
ing on the checkered fortunes of those whose history was 
dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials around. 
Sometimes, when all was quiet, and the clock from the 
distant cathedral of Granada struck the midnight hour, 
I have sallied out on another tour and wandered over 
the whole building; but how different from my first 
tour ! ~No longer dark and mysterious ; no longer peopled 
with shadowy foes ; no longer recalling scenes of violence 
and murder ; all was open, spacious, beautiful ; every- 
thing called up pleasing and romantic fancies ; Linda- 
raxa once more walked in her garden ; the gay chivalry 
of Moslem Granada once more glittered about the Court 
of Lions ! Who can do justice to a moonlight night in 
such a climate and such a place ? The temperature of a 
summer midnight in Andalusia is perfectly ethereal. 
We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere ; we feel a 
serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 309 

frame, which render mere existence happiness. But 
when moonlight is added to all this, the effect is like 
enchantment. Under its plastic sway the Alhambra 
seems to regain its pristine glories. Every rent and 
chasm of time ; every mouldering tint and weather-stain 
is gone ; the marble resumes its original whiteness ; the 
long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams ; the halls 
are illuminated with a softened radiance — we tread the 
enchanted palace of an Arabian tale ! 

What a delight, at such a time, to ascend to the little 
airy pavilion of the queen's toilet (el tocador de la 
reyna), which, like a bird-cage, overhangs the valley of 
the Darro, and gaze from its light arcades upon the 
moonlight prospect ! To the right, the swelling moun- 
tains of the Sierra Nevada, robbed of their ruggedness 
and softened into a fairy land, with their snowy summits 
gleaming like silver clouds against the deep blue sky. 
And then to lean over the parapet of the Tocador and 
gaze down upon Granada and the Albaycin spread out 
like a map below ; all buried in deep repose ; the white 
palaces and convents sleeping in the moonshine, and 
beyond all these the vapory Vega fading away like a 
dreamland in the distance. 

Sometimes the faint click of castanets rises from the 
Alameda, where some gay Andalusians are dancing away 
the summer night. Sometimes the dubious tones of a 
guitar and the notes of an amorous voice tell perchance 
the whereabout of some moonstruck lover serenading his 
lady's window. 

Such is a faint picture of the moonlight nights I have 



310 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

passed loitering about the courts and halls and balconies 
of this most suggestive pile ; " feeding my fancy with 
sugared suppositions," and enjoying that mixture of 
reverie and sensation which steals away existence in a 
southern climate ; so that it has been almost morning 
before I have retired to bed, and been lulled to sleep by 
the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. 

It is a serene and beautiful morning : the sun has not 
gained sufficient power to destroy the freshness of the 
night. What a morning to mount to the summit of the 
Tower of Comares, and take a bird's-eye view of Granada 
and its environs ! 

Come then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my 
steps into this vestibule, ornamented with rich tracery, 
which opens into the Hall of Ambassadors. We will 
not enter the hall, however, but turn to this small door 
opening into the wall. Have a care ! here are steep 
winding steps and but scanty light ; yet up this narrow, 
obscure, and spiral staircase, the proud monarchs of 
Granada and their queens have often ascended to the 
battlements to watch the approach of invading armies, 
or gaze with anxious hearts on the battles in the Vega. 

At length we have reached the terraced roof, and may 
take breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye 
over the splendid panorama of city and country ; of 
rocky mountain, verdant valley, and fertile plain; of 
castle, cathedral, Moorish towers, and Gothic domes, 
crumbling ruins, and blooming groves. Let us approach 
the battlements, and cast our eyes immediately below. 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 311 

See, on this side we have the whole plain of the Alham- 
bra laid open to us, and can look down into its courts 
and gardens. At the foot of the tower is the Court of 
the Alberca, with its great tank or fishpool, bordered 
with flowers ; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its 
famous fountain, and its light Moorish arcades ; and in 
the centre of the pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, 
buried in the heart of the building, with its roses and 
citrons and shrubbery of emerald green. 

That belt of battlements, studded with square towers, 
straggling round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer 
boundary of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may 
perceive, are in ruins, and their massive fragments buried 
among vines, fig-trees, and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is 
a giddy height ; the very foundations of the tower rise 
above the groves of the steep hill-side. And see ! a long 
fissure in the massive walls shows that the tower has 
been rent by some of the earthquakes which from time 
to time have thrown Granada into consternation ; and 
which, sooner or later, must reduce this crumbling pile 
to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow glen below us, 
which gradually widens as it opens from the mountains, is 
the valley of the Darro ; you see the little river winding 
its way under embowered terraces, and among orchards 
and flower-gardens. It is a stream famous in old times 
for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted occa- 
sionally, in search of the precious ore. Some of those 
white pavilions, which here and there gleam from among 
groves and vineyards, were rustic retreats of the Moors, 



312 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

to enjoy the refreshment of their gardens. Well have 
they been compared by one of their poets to so many 
pearls set in a bed of emeralds. 

The airy palace, with its tall white towers and long 
arcades, which breasts yon mountain, among pompous 
groves and hanging gardens, is the Generalife, a summer 
palace of the Moorish kings, to which they resorted 
during the sultry months to enjoy a still more breezy 
region than that of the Alhambra. The naked summit 
of the height above it, where you behold some shapeless 
ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moor, so called 
from having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boabdil 
during the time of an insurrection, where he seated him- 
self, and looked down mournfully upon his rebellious 
city. 

A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from 
the valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish 
mill, nearly at the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees 
beyond is the Alameda, along the bank of the Darro, a 
favorite resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers in 
the summer nights, when the guitar may be heard at a 
late hour from the benches along its walks. At present 
you see none but a few loitering monks there, and a 
group of water-carriers. The latter are burdened with 
water-jars of ancient Oriental construction, such as were 
used by the Moors. They have been filled at the cold 
and limpid spring called the fountain of Avellanos. Yon 
mountain path leads to the fountain, a favorite resort of 
Moslems as well as Christians ; for this is said to be the 
Adinamar (Aynu-1-adamar), the " Fountain of Tears," 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 313 

mentioned by Ibn Batuta the traveller, and celebrated 
in the histories and romances of the Moors. 

You start ! 'tis nothing but a hawk that we have 
frightened from his nest. This old tower is a complete 
breeding-place for vagrant birds ; the swallow and mart- 
let abound in every chink and cranny, and circle about 
it the whole day long ; while at night, when all other 
birds have gone to rest, the moping owl comes out of 
its lurking-place, and utters its boding cry from the bat- 
tlements. See how the hawk we have dislodged sweeps 
away below us, skimming over the tops of the trees, and 
sailing up to the ruins above the G-eneralife ! 

I see you raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon 
pile of mountains, shining like a white summer cloud in 
the blue sky. It is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and 
delight of Granada ; the source of her cooling breezes 
and perpetual verdure, of her gushing fountains and 
perennial streams. It is this glorious pile of mountains 
which gives to Granada that combination of delights so 
rare in a southern city, — the fresh vegetation and tem- 
perate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifying 
ardor of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a 
southern sky. It is this aerial treasury of snow, which, 
melting in proportion to the increase of the summer 
heat, sends down rivulets and streams through every 
glen and gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald 
verdure and fertility throughout a chain of happy and 
sequestered valleys. 

Those mountains may be well called the glory of 
Granada. They dominate the whole extent of Anda- 



314 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

lusia, and may be seen from its most distant parts. The 
muleteer hails them, as he views their frosty peaks from 
the sultry level of the plain ; and the Spanish mariner 
on the deck of his bark, far, far off on the bosom of the 
blue Mediterranean, watches them with a pensive eye, 
thinks of delightful Granada, and chants, in low voice, 
some old romance about the Moors. 

See to the south at the foot of those mountains a line 
of arid hills, down which a long train of mules is slowly 
moving. Here was the closing scene of Moslem domina- 
tion. From the summit of one of those hills the un- 
fortunate Boabdil cast back his last look upon Granada, 
and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot 
famous in song and story, " The last sigh of the Moor." 

Farther this way these arid hills slope down into the 
luxurious Vega, from which he had just emerged : a 
blooming wilderness of grove and garden, and teeming 
orchard, with the Xenil winding through it in silver 
links, and feeding innumerable rills ; which, conducted 
through ancient Moorish channels, maintain the land- 
scape in perpetual verdure. Here were the beloved 
bowers and gardens, and rural pavilions, for which the 
unfortunate Moors fought with such desperate valor. 
The very hovels and rude granges, now inhabited by 
boors, show, by the remains of arabesques and other 
tasteful decoration, that they were elegant residences in 
the days of the Moslems. Behold, in the very centre of 
this eventful plain, a place which in a manner links the 
history of the Old World with that of the New. Yon 
line of walls and towers gleaming in the morning sun, 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 315 

is the city of Santa Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns 
during the siege of Granada, after a conflagration had 
destroyed their camp. It was to these walls Columbus 
was called back by the heroic queen, and within them 
the treaty was concluded which led to the discovery of 
the Western World. Behind yon promontory to the 
west is the bridge of Pinos, renowned for many a bloody 
fight between Moors and Christians. At this bridge the 
messenger overtook Columbus when, despairing of suc- 
cess with the Spanish sovereigns, he was departing to 
carry his project of discovery to the court of France. 

Above the bridge a range of mountains bounds the 
Yega to the west, — the ancient barrier between Granada 
and the Christian territories. Among their heights you 
may still discern warrior towns j their gray walls and 
battlements seeming of a piece with the rocks on which 
they are built. Here and there a solitary atalaya, or 
watchtower, perched on a mountain peak, looks down as 
it were from the sky into the valley on either side. 
How often have these atalayas given notice, by fire at. 
night or smoke by day, of an approaching foe ! It was 
down a cragged defile of these mountains, called the 
Pass of Lope, that the Christian armies descended into 
the Yega. Round the base of yon gray and naked 
mountain (the mountain of Elvira), stretching its bold 
rocky promontory into the bosom of the plain, the in- 
vading squadrons would come bursting into view, with 
flaunting banners and clangor of drum and trumpet. 

But enough ; — the sun is high above the mountains, 
and pours his full fervor on our heads. Already the 



816 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING* 

terraced roof is hot beneath our foot ; lot us abandon it. 
and refresh ourselves under the Arcades by the Fountain 

o( the Lions. 

In ono of my visits to tho old Moorish ohamlvr where 
tho good Tia Antonia eooks her dinner and receives her 
company, I observed a mysterious door in ono corner, 

leading- apparently into tho ancient part oi' tho edifice. 
My curiosity being aroused, I opened it. and found my- 
self in a narrow, blind corridor, groping along which I 

Came to the head of a dark winding staiivaso. loading- 
down an angle of the Tower of Comares. Pown this 
staiivaso I descended darkling, guiding myself by the 
wall until I eamo to a small door at the bottom, throw 
ing which open. 1 was suddenly da. vied by emerging into 
the brilliant antechamber of the Hall of Ambassadors; 
with the fountain of tho court of the Alborea sparkling 
before me. The antechamber is separated from the 
court by an elegant gallery, supported by slender eol- 
iiiiins with spandrels of open work in the Morisoo style, 
At eaeh end of the antechamber are alcoves, and its 

Ceiling is richly Stuccoed and painted. Passing through 
a magnificent portal. I found myself in the far-famed 
Hall of Ambassadors, the audience chamber o( the Mos- 
lem monarehs. li is said to be thirty-seven feet square, 
and sixty feet high: occupies the whole interior o{ the 
Tower oi' Pomaros ; and still bears the traces oi' past 
magnificence. The walls are beautifully stuccoed and 
decorated with Morisoo faneifulnoss; the lofty ceiling 
was originally of tho same favorite material, with the 



PALACM OP THE auiamiula. 81? 

.-.,.] frostwork and pensile (>ih'ri.ui<-A ^talactites; 

nrhich, v/jUj the embellishments of vivid 
gliding, must have been gorgeous in ' l .:':me, Un- 

fortunately it gave iray dtirii earthquake, 

brought down with it an immense arch which traversed 
the hall It was replaced by the present vault or dome 
of larch ox cedar, frith intersecting ribs, the irhole curi- 
ously wrought and richly colored ; still Oriental in its 
character, reminding one of •• those ceilings of ce 
and verm i J ion that we read of in the Prophets and the 
Arabiai] Nights," 

From the great height Of the vault above the win- 
dows, the upper part of the hall is aim it in obscu- 
rity: yet there is a magnificence a:-; well a:-; solemnity in 
the gloom, as through if ire have gleams of rich gilding 
and the brilliant tints of the Moorish pencil. 

The royal throne was placed opposite the entrance in a 
which still bears an inscription intimating that 
STusef L (the monarch wrho completed the Alhambra) 
made this the throne of his empire. Everything in 
this noble hall seems to have been calculated to surround 
the throne with impressive dignity and splendor; there 
was none of the elegant voluptuousness which reigns in 
other part:, oi the palace. The tower is of massive 
Strength, domineering over the whole edifice and over- 
hanging the steep hillside. On three sides of the ifall 
of Ambassadors are windows cut through the immense 
thiekness of the walls, and commanding extensive pros- 
pects. The balcony of the central window especially 
look.; down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, with 



318 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

its walks, its groves, and gardens. To the left it enjoys 
a distant prospect of the Vega ; while directly in front 
rises the rival height of the Albaycin, with its medley of 
streets, and terraces, and gardens, and once crowned by 
a fortress that vied in power with the Alhambra. " 111 
fated the man who lost all this ! " exclaimed Charles V., 
as he looked forth from this window upon the enchanting 
scenery it commands. 

The balcony of the window where this royal exclama- 
tion was made, has of late become one of my favorite 
resorts. I have just been seated there, enjoying the 
close of a long brilliant day. The sun, as he sank be- 
hind the purple mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of 
effulgence up the valley of the Darro, that spread a mel- 
ancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra ; 
while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry vapor that 
caught the setting ray, seemed spread out in the distance 
like a golden sea. Not a breath of air disturbed the 
stillness of the hour, and though the faint sound of 
music and merriment now and then rose from the gar- 
dens of the Darro, it but rendered more impressive the 
monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. 
It was one of those hours and scenes in which memory 
asserts an almost magical power ; and, like the evening 
sun beaming on these mouldering towers, sends back her 
retrospective rays to light up the glories of the past. 

As I sat watching the effect of the declining daylight 
upon this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of 
the light, elegant, and voluptuous character prevalent 
throughout its internal architecture, and to contrast it 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 819 

with the grand but gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edi- 
fices reared by the Spanish conquerors. The very archi- 
tecture thus bespeaks the opposite and irreconcilable 
natures of the two warlike people who so long battled 
here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By degrees I fell 
into a course of musing upon the singular fortunes of 
the Arabian or Morisco-Spaniards, whose whole existence 
is as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the 
most anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent 
and durable as was their dominion, we scarcely know 
how to call them. They were a nation without a legiti- 
mate country or name. A remote wave of the great 
Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe, they 
seem to have all the impetus of the first rush of the tor- 
rent. Their career of conquest, from the rock of Gibraltar 
to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant 
as the Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had 
they not been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, 
all Europe, might have been overrun with the same 
facility as the empires of the East, and the Crescent 
at this day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and 
London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed 
hordes of Asia and Africa, that formed this great irrup- 
tion, gave up the Moslem principle of conquest, and 
sought to establish in Spain a peaceful and perma- 
nent dominion. As conquerors, their heroism was only 
equalled by their moderation ; and in both, for a time, 
they excelled the nations with whom they contended. 
Severed from their native homes, they loved the land 



320 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

given them as they supposed by Allah, and strove to 
embellish it with everything that could administer to 
the happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their 
power in a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently 
cultivating the arts and sciences, and promoting agricul- 
ture, manufactures, and commerce, they gradually formed 
an empire unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the 
empires of Christendom ; and diligently drawing round 
them the graces and refinements which marked the Ara- 
bian empire in the East, at the time of its greatest civ- 
ilization, they diffused the light of Oriental knowledge 
through the western regions of benighted Europe. 

The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of 
Christian artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful 
arts. The universities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and 
Granada were sought by the pale student from other 
lands to acquaint himself with the sciences of the Arabs 
and the treasured lore of antiquity ; the lovers of the 
gay science resorted to Cordova and Granada, to imbibe 
the poetry and music of the East; and the steel-clad 
warriors of the North hastened thither to accomplish 
themselves in the graceful exercises and courteous usages 
of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of 
Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of 
Granada, still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the 
power and permanency of their dominion, can the boast 
be derided as arrogant and vain ? Generation after gen- 
eration, century after century, passed away, and still 
they maintained possession of the land. A period elapsed 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 321 

longer than that which has passed since England was 
subjugated by the Norman Conqueror, and the descen- 
dants of Musa and Taric might as little anticipate being 
driven into exile across the same straits, traversed by 
their triumphant ancestors, as the descendants of Rollo 
and William, and their veteran peers, may dream of 
being driven back to the shores of Normandy. 

With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain 
was but a brilliant exotic, that took no permanent root 
in the soil it embellished. Severed from all their neigh- 
bors in the West by impassable barriers of faith and 
manners, and separated by seas and deserts from their 
kindred of the East, the Morisco-Spaniards were an 
isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged, 
though gallant and chivalric, struggle for a foothold in a 
usurped land. 

They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. 
The peninsula was the great battle-ground where the 
Gothic conquerors of the North and the Moslem con- 
querors of the East met and strove for mastery; and 
the fiery courage of the Arab was at length subdued by 
the obstinate and persevering valor of the Goth. 

Never was the annihilation of a people more complete 
than that of the Morisco-Spaniards. Where are they ? 
Ask the shores of Barbary and its desert places. The 
exiled remnant of their once powerful empire disap- 
peared among the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be 
a nation. They have not even left a distinct name 
behind them, though for nearly eight centuries they 
were a distinct people. The home of their adoption, 



322 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

and of their occupation for ages, refuses to acknowledge 
them, except as invaders and usurpers. A few broken 
monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their 
power and dominion, as solitary rocks, left far in the 
interior, bear testimony to the extent of some vast inun- 
dation. Such is the Alhambra ; — a Moslem pile in the 
midst of a Christian land ; an Oriental palace amidst the 
Gothic edifices of the West ; an elegant memento of a 
brave, intelligent, and graceful people, who conquered, 
ruled, flourished, and passed away. 

NOTE ON MORISCO ARCHITECTURE. 

To an unpractised eye, the light relievos and fanciful arabesques 
which cover the walls of the Alhambra appear to have been sculp- 
tured by the hand, with a minute and patient labor, an inexhaustible 
variety of detail, yet a general uniformity and harmony of design 
truly astonishing ; and this may especially be said of the vaults and 
cupolas, which are wrought like honeycombs, or frostwork, with 
stalactites and pendants which confound the beholder with the 
seeming intricacy of their patterns. The astonishment ceases, how- 
ever, when it is discovered that this is all stucco-work ; plates of plaster 
of Paris, cast in moulds and skilfully joined so as to form patterns of 
every size and form. This mode of diapering walls with arabesques, 
and stuccoing the vaults with grotto-work, was invented in Damas- 
cus, but highly improved by the Moors in Morocco, to whom Saracenic 
architecture owes its most graceful and fanciful details. The process 
by which all this fairy tracery was produced was ingeniously simple. 
The wall in its naked state was divided off by lines crossing at right 
angles, such as artists use in copying a picture; over these were 
drawn a succession of intersecting segments of circles. By the aid of 
these the artists could work with celerity and certainty, and from the 
mere intersection of the plain and curved lines arose the interminable 
variety of patterns and the general uniformity of their character.* 

1 See Urquhart's Pillars of Hercules, B. III. C. 8. 



PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 323 

Much gilding was used in the stucco-work, especially of the 
cupolas; and the interstices were delicately penciled with brilliant 
colors, such as vermilion and lapis lazuli, laid on with the whites of 
eggs. The primitive colors alone were used, says Ford, by the Egyp- 
tians, Greeks, and Arabs, in the early period of art ; and they prevail 
in the Alhambra whenever the artist has been Arabic or Moorish. It 
is remarkable how much of their original brilliancy remains after the 
lapse of several centuries. 

The lower part of the walls in the saloons, to the height of several 
feet, is incrusted with glazed tiles, joined like the plates of stucco- 
work, so as to form various patterns. On some of them are embla- 
zoned the escutcheons of the Moslem kings, traversed with a band and 
motto. These glazed tiles (azulejos in Spanish, az-zulaj in Arabic) 
are of Oriental origin ; their coolness, cleanliness, and freedom from 
vermin, render them admirably fitted in sultry climates for paving 
halls and fountains, incrusting bathing-rooms, and lining the walls 
of chambers. Ford is inclined to give them great antiquity. From 
their prevailing colors, sapphire and blue, he deduces that they may 
have formed the kind of pavements alluded to in the sacred Scrip- 
tures: — "There was under his feet as it were a paved work of a 
sapphire stone " (Exod. xxiv. 10) ; and again, "Behold I will lay thy 
stones with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with sapphires" 
(Isaiah liv. 11). 

These glazed or porcelain tiles were introduced into Spain at an 
early date by the Moslems. Some are to be seen among the Moorish 
ruins which have been there upwards of eight centuries. Manufac- 
tures of them still exist in the Peninsula, and they are much used in 
the best Spanish houses, especially in the southern provinces, for 
paving and lining the summer apartments. 

The Spaniards introduced them into the Netherlands when they 
had possession of that country. The people of Holland adopted 
them with avidity, as wonderfully suited to their passion for house- 
hold cleanliness ; and thus these Oriental inventions, the azulejos of 
the Spanish, the az-zulaj of the Arabs, have come to be commonly 
known as Dutch tiles. 



324 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCEEET STATUES. 

There lived once in a waste apartment of the Alham- 
bra a merry little fellow, named Lope Sanchez, who 
worked in the gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a 
grasshopper, singing all day long. He was the life and 
soul of the fortress ; when his work was over he would 
sit on one of the stone benches of the esplanade, strum 
his guitar, and sing long ditties about the Cid, and 
Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, and 
other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old 
soldiers of the fortress ; or would strike up a merrier 
tune, and set the girls dancing boleros and fandangos. 

Like most little men, Lope Sanchez had a strapping 
buxom dame for a wife, who could almost have put him 
in her pocket ; but he lacked the usual poor man's lot — 
instead of ten children he had but one. This was a 
little black-eyed girl about twelve years of age, named 
Sanchica, who was as merry as himself, and the delight 
of his heart. She played about him as he worked in the 
gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in the shade, and 
ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves and alleys 
and ruined halls of the Alhambra. 

It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the 
holiday-loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, 
and children, went up at night to the Mountain of the 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 325 

Sun, which rises above the Generalife, to keep their 
midsummer vigil on its level summit. It was a bright 
moonlight night, and all the mountains were gray and 
silvery, and the city, with its domes and spires, lay in 
shadows below, and the Vega was like a fairy land, with 
haunted streams gleaming among its dusky groves. On 
the highest part of the mountain they lit up a bonfire, 
according to an old custom of the country handed down 
from the Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding 
country were keeping a similar vigil, and bonfires, here 
and there in the Vega, and along the folds of the moun- 
tains, blazed up palely in the moonlight. 

The evening was gayly passed in dancing to the guitar 
of Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a 
holiday revel of the kind. When the dance was going 
on, the little Sanchica with some of her playmates 
sported among the ruins of an old Moorish fort that 
crowns the mountain, when, in gathering pebbles in the 
fosse, she found a small hand curiously carved of jet, 
the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly clasped upon 
them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she ran to her 
mother with her prize. It immediately became a subject 
of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with supersti- 
tious distrust. " Throw it away," said one ; " it's Moor- 
ish, — depend upon it, there's mischief and witchcraft in 
it." " By no means," said another ; " you may sell it for 
something to the jewellers of the Zacatin." In the 
midst of this discussion an old tawny soldier drew near, 
who had served in Africa, and was as swarthy as a Moor. 
He examined the hand with a knowing look. " I have 



326 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

seen things of this kind/' said he, " among the Moors of 
Barbary. It is a great virtue to guard against the evil 
eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantments. I give 
you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to your 
child/' 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the 
little hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung it round the neck 
of her daughter. 

The sight of this talisman called up all the favorite 
superstitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, 
and they sat in groups on the ground, telling old legen- 
dary tales handed down from their ancestors. Some of 
their stories turned upon the wonders of the very moun- 
tain upon which they were seated, which is a famous 
hobgoblin region. One ancient crone gave a long ac- 
count of the subterranean palace in the bowels of that 
mountain where Boabdil and all his Moslem court are 
said to remain enchanted. " Among yonder ruins," said 
she, pointing to some crumbling walls and mounds of 
earth on a distant part of the mountain, " there is a 
deep black pit that goes down, down into the very heart 
of the mountain. For all the money in Granada I would 
not look down into it. Once upon a time a poor man of 
the Alhambra, who tended goats upon this mountain, 
scrambled down into that pit after a kid that had fallen 
in. He came out again all wild and staring, and told 
such things of what he had seen, that every one thought 
his brain was turned. He raved for a day or two about 
the hobgoblin Moors that had pursued him in the cavern, 
and could hardly be persuaded to drive his goats up 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 327 

again to the mountain. He did so at last, but, poor man, 
he never came down again. The neighbors found his 
goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat and 
mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never 
more heard of." 

The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention 
to this story. She was of a curious nature, and felt 
immediately a great hankering to peep into this danger- 
ous pit. Stealing away from her companions, she sought 
the distant ruins, and, after groping for some time among 
them, came to a small hollow, or basin, near the brow of 
the mountain, where it swept steeply down into the 
valley of the Darro. In the centre of this basin yawned 
the mouth of the pit. Sanchica ventured to the verge, 
and peeped in. All was as black as pitch, and gave an 
idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold ; she 
drew back, then peeped in again, then would have run 
away, then took another peep, — the very horror of the 
thing was delightful to her. At length she rolled a 
large stone, and pushed it over the brink. For some 
time it fell in silence ; then struck some rocky projection 
with a violent crash ; then rebounded from side to side, 
rumbling and tumbling, with a noise like thunder ; then 
made a final splash into water, far, far below, — and all 
was again silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It 
seemed as if something had been awakened within this 
dreary abyss. A murmuring sound gradually rose out 
of the pit like the hum and buzz of a beehive. It grew 
louder and louder, there was the confusion of voices as 



328 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

of a distant multitude, together with the faint din of 
arms, clash of cymbals and clangor of trumpets, as if 
some army were marshalling for battle in the very 
bowels of the mountain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back 
to the place where she had left her parents and their 
companions. All were gone. The bonfire was expiring, 
and its last wreath of smoke curling up in the moon- 
shine. The distant fires that had blazed along the 
mountains and in the Vega were all extinguished, and 
everything seemed to have sunk to repose. Sanchica 
called her parents and some of her companions by name, 
but received no reply. She ran down the side of the 
mountain, and by the gardens of the G-eneralife, until 
she arrived in the alley of trees leading to the Alhambra, 
where she seated herself on a bench of a woody recess, 
to recover breath. 'The bell from the watch-tower of 
the Alhambra tolled midnight. There was a deep tran- 
quillity as if all nature slept ; excepting the low tinkling 
sound of an unseen stream that ran under the covert of 
the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere 
was lulling her to sleep, when her eye was caught by 
something glittering at a distance, and to her surprise 
she beheld a long cavalcade of Moorish warriors pouring 
down the mountain-side and along the leafy avenues. 
Some were armed with lances and shields ; others with 
cimeters and battle-axes, and with polished cuirasses 
that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses pranced 
proudly and champed upon their bits, but their tramp 
caused no more sound than if they had been shod with 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. '329 

felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among 
them rode a beautiful lady, with a crowned head and 
long golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings 
of her palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with 
gold, and swept the earth ; but she rode all disconsolate, 
with eyes ever fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently ar- 
rayed in robes and turbans of divers colors, and amidst 
them, on a cream-colored charger, rode king Boabdil el 
Chico, in a royal mantle covered with jewels, and a 
crown sparkling with diamonds. The little Sanchica 
knew him by his yellow beard, and his resemblance to 
his portrait, which she had often seen in the picture- 
gallery of the Generalife. She gazed in wonder and 
admiration at this royal pageant, as it passed glistening 
among the trees ; but though she knew these monarchs 
and courtiers and warriors, so pale and silent, were out 
of the common course of nature, and things of magic 
and enchantment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, 
such courage did she derive from the mystic talisman of 
the hand, which was suspended about her neck. 

The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. 
It continued on to the great Gate of Justice, which stood 
wide open ; the old invalid sentinels on duty lay on the 
stone benches of the barbican, buried in profound and 
apparently charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant 
swept noiselessly by them with flaunting banner and 
triumphant state. Sanchica would have followed; but 
to her surprise she beheld an opening in the earth, 
within the barbican, leading down beneath the founda- 



330 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

tions of the tower. She entered for a little distance, 
and was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely 
hewn in the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there 
lit up by a silver lamp, which, while it gave light, dif- 
fused likewise a grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she 
came at last to a great hall, wrought out of the heart of 
the mountain, magnificently furnished in the Moorish 
style, and lighted up by silver and crystal lamps. Here, 
on an ottoman, sat an old man in Moorish dress, with a 
long white beard, nodding and dozing, with a staff in his 
hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from his grasp ; 
while at a little distance sat a beautiful lady, in ancient 
Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with diamonds, 
and her hair entwined with pearls, who was softly play- 
ing on a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected 
a story she had heard among the old people of the Al- 
hambra, concerning a Gothic princess confined in the 
centre of the mountain by an old Arabian magician, 
whom she kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of 
music. 

The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in 
that enchanted hall. " Is it the eve of the blessed St. 
John ? " said she. 

" It is," replied Sanchica. 

"Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. 
Come hither, child, and fear not. I am a Christian like 
thyself, though bound here by enchantment. Touch my 
fetters with the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and 
for this night I shall be free." 

So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 331 

golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that 
fastened her to the ground. The child hesitated not to 
apply the little hand of jet to the golden band, and im- 
mediately the chain fell to the earth. At the sound the 
old man woke ami began to rub his eyes; but the lady 
ran her fingers over the chords of the lyre, and again he 
fell into a slumber and began to nod, and his staff to 
falter in his hand. "Now," said the lady, "touch his 
staff with the talismanic hand of jet." The child did 
so, and it fell from his grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep 
on the ottoman. The lady gently laid the silver lyre on 
the ottoman, leaning it against the head of the sleeping 
magician ; then touching the chords until they vibrated 
in his ear, — "0 potent spirit of harmony," said she, 
"continue thus to hold his senses in thraldom till the 
return of day. Now follow me, my child," continued 
she, " and thou shalt behold the Alhambra as it was in 
the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talisman that 
reveals all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady 
in silence. They passed up through the entrance of the 
cavern into the barbican of the Gate of Justice, and 
thence to the Plaza de los Algibes; or esplanade within 
the fortress. 

This was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and 
foot, marshalled in squadrons, with banners displayed. 
There were royal guards also at the portal, and rows of 
African blacks with drawn cimeters. No one spoke a 
word, and Sanchica passed on fearlessly after her con- 
ductor. Her astonishment increased on entering the 
royal palace, in which she had been reared. The broad 



332 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

moonshine lit up all the halls and courts and gardens 
almost as brightly as if it were day, but revealed a far 
different scene from that to which she was accustomed. 
The walls of the apartment were no longer stained and 
rent by time. Instead of cobwebs, they were now hung 
with rich silks of Damascus, and the gildings and ara- 
besque paintings were restored to their original brilliancy 
and freshness. The halls, no longer naked and unfur- 
nished, were set out with divans and ottomans of the 
rarest stuffs, embroidered with pearls and studded with 
precious gems, and all the fountains in the courts and 
gardens were playing. 

The kitchens were again in full operation ; cooks were 
busy preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling 
the phantoms of pullets and partridges; servants were 
hurrying to and fro with silver dishes heaped up with 
dainties, and arranging a delicious banquet. The Court 
of Lions was thronged with guards, and courtiers, and 
alfaquis, as in the old times of the Moors ; and at the 
upper end, in the saloon of judgment, sat Boabdil on his 
throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a shadowy 
sceptre for the night. Notwithstanding all this throng 
and seeming bustle, not a voice nor a footstep was to be 
heard ; nothing interrupted the midnight silence but the 
splashing of the fountains. The little Sanchica followed 
her conductress in mute amazement about the palace, 
until they came to a portal opening to the vaulted pas- 
sages beneath the great Tower of Comares. On each side 
of the portal sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of 
alabaster. Their heads were turned aside, and their 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 333 

regards fixed upon the same spot within the vault. The 
enchanted lady paused, and beckoned the child to her. 
"Here," said she, "is a great secret, which I will reveal 
to thee in reward for thy faith and courage. These dis- 
creet statues watch over a treasure hidden in old times 
by a Moorish king. Tell thy father to search the spot 
on which their eyes are fixed, and he will find what will 
make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy inno- 
cent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with 
the talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father 
use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to the perform- 
ance of daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy 
enchantment." 

When the lady had spoken these words, she led the 
child onward to the little garden of Lindlaraxa, which is 
hard by the vault of the statues. The moon trembled 
upon the waters of the solitary fountain in the centre of 
the garden, and shed a tender light upon the orange and 
citron trees. The beautiful lady plucked a branch of 
myrtle and wreathed it round the head of the child. 
" Let this be a memento," said she, " of what I have 
revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. My 
hour is come ; I must return to the enchanted hall ; fol- 
low me not, lest evil befall thee ; — farewell. Remem- 
ber what I have said, and have masses performed for my 
deliverance." So saying, the lady entered a dark pas- 
sage leading beneath the Tower of Comares, and was no 
longer seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the 
cottages below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, 



334 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

and a pale streak of light began to appear above the 
eastern mountains. A slight wind arose, there was a 
sound like the rustling of dry leaves through the courts 
and corridors, and door after door shut to with a jarring 
sound. 

Sanchica returned to the scenes she had so lately 
beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude, but Boab- 
dil and his phantom court were gone. The moon shone 
into empty halls and galleries stripped of their transient 
splendor, stained and dilapidated by time, and hung with 
cobwebs. The bat flitted about in the uncertain light, 
and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote 
staircase that led up to the humble apartment occupied 
by her family. The door as usual was open, for Lope 
Sanchez was too poor to need bolt or bar ; she crept 
quietly to her pallet, and, putting the myrtle wreath 
beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to 
her father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as 
a mere dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. 
He went forth to his customary labors in the garden, but 
had not been there long when his little daughter came 
running to him almost breathless. " Father, father!" 
cried she, " behold the myrtle wreath which the Moorish 
lady bound round my head." 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk 
of the myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a 
sparkling emerald ! Being not much accustomed to 
precious stones, he was ignorant of the real value of 



LEGEND OP THE DISCREET STATUES. 335 

the wreath, but he saw enough to convince him that it 
was something more substantial than the stuff of which 
dreams are generally made, and that at any rate the 
child had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was 
to enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daughter; 
in this respect, however, he was secure, for she had dis- 
cretion far beyond her years or sex. He then repaired 
to the vault, where stood the statues of the two alabas- 
ter nymphs. He remarked that their heads were turned 
from the portal, and that the regards of each were fixed 
upon the same point in the interior of the building. 
Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most discreet 
contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line from 
the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a 
private mark on the wall, and then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was dis- 
tracted with a thousand cares. He could not help hover- 
ing within distant view of the two statues, and became 
nervous from the dread that the golden secret might be 
discovered. Every footstep that approached the place 
made him tremble. He would have given anything 
could he but have turned the heads of the statues, for- 
getting that they had looked precisely in the same direc- 
tion for some hundreds of years, without any person 
being the wiser. 

"A plague upon them," he would say to himself, 
" they'll betray all ; did ever mortal hear of such a mode 
of guarding a secret ? " Then on hearing any one ad- 
vance, he would steal off, as though his very lurking 
near the place would awaken suspicion. Then he would 



336 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

return cautiously, and peep from a distance to see if 
everything was secure, but the sight of the statues would 
again call forth his indignation. " Ay, there they stand," 
would he say, "always looking, and looking, and looking, 
just where they should not. Confound them ! they are 
just like all their sex ; if they have not tongues to tattle 
with, they'll be sure to do it with their eyes." 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a 
close. The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in 
the echoing halls of the Alhambra ; the last stranger 
passed the threshold, the great portal was barred and 
bolted, and the bat and the frog and the hooting owl 
gradually resumed their nightly vocations in the deserted 
palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far 
advanced before he ventured with his little daughter to 
the hall of the two nymphs. He found them looking as 
knowingly and mysteriously as ever at the secret place 
of deposit. "By your leaves, gentle ladies," thought 
Lope Sanchez, as he passed between them, " I will re- 
lieve you from this charge that must have set so heavy 
in your minds for the last two or three centuries." He 
accordingly went to work at the part of the wall which 
he had marked, and in a little while laid open a con- 
cealed recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. 
He attempted to draw them forth, but they were immov- 
able, until touched by the innocent hand of his little 
daughter. With her aid he dislodged them from their 
niche, and found, to his great joy, that they were filled 
with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled with jewels and 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 837 

precious stones. Before daylight lie managed to convey 
them to his chamber, and left the two guardian statues 
with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich 
man; but riches, as usual, brought a world of cares to 
which he had hitherto been a stranger. How was he to 
convey away his wealth with safety ? How was he 
even to enter upon the enjoyment of it without awaken- 
ing suspicion? Now, too. for the first time in his life 
the dread of robbers entered into his mind. He looked 
with terror at the insecurity of his habitation, and went 
to work to barricade the doors and windows ; yet after 
all his precautions he could not sleep soundly. His 
usual gayety was at an end, he had no longer a joke 
or a song for his neighbors, and, in short, became the 
most miserable animal in the Alhambra. His old com- 
rades remarked this alteration, pitied him heartily, and 
began to desert him ; thinking he must be falling into 
want, and in danger of looking to them for assistance. 
Little did they suspect that his only calamity was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety, but then 
she had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have 
mentioned that Lope, being rather a light inconsiderate 
little man, his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, 
to seek the counsel and ministry of her confessor, Fray 
Simon, a sturdy, broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet- 
headed friar of the neighboring convent of San Francisco, 
who was in fact the spiritual comforter of half the good 
wives of the neighborhood. He was moreover in great 
esteem among divers sisterhoods of nuns ; who requited 



338 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

him for his ghostly services by frequent presents of those 
little dainties and knickknacks manufactured in con- 
vents, such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, and 
bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous restora- 
tives after fasts and vigils. 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. 
His oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up 
the hill of the Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwith- 
standing his sleek condition, the knotted rope round his 
waist showed the austerity of his self -discipline ; the 
multitude doffed their caps to him as a mirror of piety ; 
and even the dogs scented the odor of sanctity that ex- 
haled from his garments, and howled from their kennels 
as he passed. 

Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the 
comely wife of Lope Sanchez ; and as the father con- 
fessor is the domestic confidant of women in humble life 
in Spain, he was soon acquainted, in great secrecy, with 
the story of the hidden treasure. 

The friar opened his eyes and mouth, and crossed him- 
self a dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, 
" Daughter of my soul ! " said he, " know that thy hus- 
band has committed a double sin — a sin against both 
State and church ! The treasure he hath thus seized 
upon for himself, being found in the royal domains, be- 
longs of course to the crown ; but being infidel wealth, 
rescued as it were from the fangs of Satan, should be de- 
voted to the church. Still, however, the matter may be 
accommodated. Bring hither thy myrtle wreath." 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 339 

more than ever with admiration of the size and beauty 
of the emeralds. " This," said he, "being the first-fruits 
of this discovery, should be dedicated to pious purposes. 
I will hang it up as a votive offering before the image of 
San Francisco in our chapel, and will earnestly pray to 
him, this very night, that your husband be permitted 
to remain in quiet possession of your wealth." 

The good dame was delighted to make her peace with 
heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the 
wreath under his mantle, departed with saintly steps 
toward his convent. 

When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him 
what had passed. He was excessively provoked, for 
he lacked his wife's devotion, and had for sometime 
groaned in secret at the domestic visitations of the friar. 
" Woman," said he, " what hast thou done ? Thou hast 
put everything at hazard by thy tattling." 

" What ! " cried the good woman, " would you forbid 
my disburdening my conscience to my confessor ? " 

" No, wife ! confess as many of your own sins as you 
please ; but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my 
own, and my conscience is very easy under the weight 
of it." 

There was no use, however, in complaining ; the secret 
was told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not 
again to be gathered. Their only chance was that the 
friar would be discreet. 

The -next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there 
was an humble knocking at the door, and Fray Simon 
entered with meek and demure countenance. 



340 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

" Daughter," said he, " I have earnestly prayed to San 
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of 
the night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with 
a frowning aspect, ' Why/ said he, ' dost thou pray to me 
to dispense with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou 
seest the poverty of my chapel ? Go to the house of 
Lope Sanchez, crave in my name a portion of the Moor- 
ish gold, to furnish two candlesticks for the main altar, 
and let him possess the residue in peace.' " 

When the good woman heard of this vision, she 
crossed herself with awe, and going to the secret place 
where Lope had hid the treasure, she filled a great 
leathern purse with pieces of Moorish gold, and gave it 
to the friar. The pious monk bestowed upon her, in 
return, benedictions enough, if paid by Heaven, to en- 
rich her race to the latest posterity; then slipping the 
purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands 
upon his breast, and departed with an air of humble 
thankfulness. 

When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to 
the church, he had wellnigh lost his senses. " Unfortu- 
nate man," cried he, " what will become of me ? I shall 
be robbed by piece-meal ; I shall be ruined and brought 
to beggary." 

It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could 
pacify him, by reminding him of the countless wealth 
that yet remained, and how considerate it was for San 
Francisco to rest .contented with so small a portion. 

Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations 
to be provided for, not to mention some half-dozen sturdy 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 341 

bullet-headed orphan children and destitute foundlings 
that he had taken under his care. He repeated his 
visits, therefore, from day to day, with solicitations on 
behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint Andrew, Saint James, 
until poor Lope was driven to despair, and found that 
unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar, he 
should have to make peace-offering to every saint in the 
calendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his re- 
maining wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and 
make off to another part of the kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the 
purpose, and tethered it in a gloomy vault underneath 
the tower of the seven floors ; the very place whence the 
Belludo, or goblin horse, is said to issue forth at mid- 
night, and scour the streets of Granada, pursued by a 
pack of hell-hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in 
the story, but availed himself of the dread occasioned by 
it, knowing that no one would be likely to pry into the 
subterranean stable of the phantom steed. He sent off 
his family in the course of the day, with orders to wait 
for him at a distant village of the Yega. As the night 
advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under 
the tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, 
and cautiously descended the dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost 
secrecy, imparting them to no one but the faithful wife 
of his bosom. By some miraculous revelation, however, 
they became known to Fray Simon. The zealous friar 
beheld these infidel treasures on the point of slipping 
forever out of his grasp, and determined to have one 



342 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

more dash at them for the benefit of the church and San 
Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had rung for 
animas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out of 
his convent, and descending through the Gate of Justice, 
concealed himself among the thickets of roses and 
laurels that border the great avenue. Here he remained, 
counting the quarters of hours as they were sounded on 
the bell of the watch-tower, and listening to the dreary 
hootings of owls, and the distant barking of dogs from 
the gypsy caverns. 

At length he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through 
the gloom of the overshading trees, imperfectly beheld a 
steed descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled 
at the idea of the knowing turn he was about to serve 
honest Lope. 

Tucking up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like 
a cat watching a mouse, he waited until his prey was 
directly before him, when darting forth from his leafy 
covert, and putting one hand on the shoulder and the 
other on the crupper, he made a vault that would not 
have disgraced the most experienced master of equita- 
tion, and alighted well-forked astride the steed. "Ah 
ha ! " said the sturdy friar, " we shall now see who best 
understands the game." He had scarce uttered the 
words when the mule began to kick, and rear, and 
plunge, and then set off full speed down the hill. The 
friar attempted to check him, but in vain. He bounded 
from rock to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit 
was torn to ribbons and fluttered in the wind, his shaven 
poll received many a hard knock from the branches of 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 343 

the trees, and many a scratch from the brambles. To 
add to his terror and distress, he found a pack of seven 
hounds in full cry at his heels, and perceived, too late, 
that he was actually mounted upon the terrible Belludo ! 

Away then they went, according to the ancient phrase, 
" pull devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across 
the Plaza Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivar- 
rambla — never did huntsman and hound make a more 
furious run, or more infernal uproar. In vain did the 
friar invoke every saint in the calendar, and the holy 
Virgin into the bargain ; every time he mentioned a 
name of the kind it was like a fresh application of the 
spur, and made the Belludo bound as high as a house. 
Through the remainder of the night was the unlucky 
Fray Simon carried hither and thither, and whither he 
would not, until every bone in his body ached, and he 
suffered a loss of leather too grievous to be mentioned. 
At length the crowing of a cock gave the signal of 
returning day. At the sound the goblin steed wheeled 
about, and galloped back for his tower. Again he 
scoured the Vivarrambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, 
and the avenue of fountains, the seven dogs yelling, and 
barking, and leaping up, and snapping at the heels of 
the terrified friar. The first streak of day had just 
appeared as they reached the tower; here the goblin 
steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somerset 
through the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by 
the infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to 
the late deafening clamor. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon a holy 



344 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

friar ? A peasant going to his labors at early dawn 
found the unfortunate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree 
at the foot of the tower, but so bruised and bedevilled 
that he could neither speak nor move. He was conveyed 
with all care and tenderness to his cell, and the story 
went that he had been waylaid and maltreated by rob- 
bers. A day or two elapsed before he recovered the use 
of his limbs ; he consoled himself, in the mean time, with 
the thoughts that though the mule with the treasure had 
escaped him, he had previously had some rare pickings 
at the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use 
his limbs, was to search beneath his pallet, where he 
had secreted the myrtle wreath, and the leathern 
pouches of gold extracted from the piety of dame San- 
chez. What was his dismay at finding the wreath, in 
effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and the leathern 
pouches filled with sand and gravel ! 

Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion 
to hold his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw 
on him the ridicule of the public, and the punishment of 
his superior. It was not until many years afterwards, 
on his dea,th-bed, that he revealed to his confessor his 
nocturnal ride on the Belludo. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time 
after his disappearance from the Alhambra. His mem- 
ory was always cherished as that of a merry companion, 
though it was feared, from the care and melancholy 
observed in his conduct shortly before his mysterious 
departure, that poverty and distress had driven him to 
some extremity. Some years afterwards one of his old 



LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 345 

companions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga, was 
knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. 
The carriage stopped; an old gentleman, magnificently 
dressed, with a bagwig and sword, stepped out to assist 
the poor invalid. What was the astonishment of the 
latter to behold in this grand cavalier his old friend 
Lope Sanchez, who was actually celebrating the mar- 
riage of his daughter Sanchica, with one of the first 
grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There was 
dame Sanchez, now grown as round as a barrel, and 
dressed out with feathers and jewels, and necklaces of 
pearls, and necklaces of diamonds, and rings on every 
finger, altogether a finery of apparel that had not been 
seen since the days of Queen Sheba. The little Sanchica 
had now grown to be a woman, and for grace and beauty 
might have been mistaken for a duchess, if not a prin- 
cess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her — rather 
a withered spindle-shanked little man, but this only 
proved him to be of the true-blue blood; a legitimate 
Spanish grandee being rarely above three cubits in stat- 
ure. The match had been of the mother's making. 

Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He 
kept his old comrade with him for several days ; feasted 
him like a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and 
at length sent him away rejoicing, with a big bag of 
money for himself, and another to be distributed among 
his ancient messmates of the Alhambra. 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in 
America and left him heir to a copper mine ; but the 



346 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

shrewd gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth 
was all derived from his having discovered the secret 
guarded by the two marble nymphs of the Alhambra. 
It is remarked that these very discreet statues continue, 
even unto "the present day, with their eyes fixed most 
significantly on the same part of the wall ; which leads 
many to suppose there is still some hidden treasure re- 
maining there well worthy the attention of the enter- 
prising traveller. Though others, and particularly all 
female visitors, regard them with great complacency as 
lasting monuments of the fact that women can keep a 
secret. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 347 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

There are few writers for whom the reader feels such 
personal kindness as for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have 
so eminently possessed the magic gift of identifying 
themselves with their writings. We read his character 
in every page, and grow into familiar intimacy with him 
as we read. The artless benevolence that beams through- 
out his works ; the whimsical, yet amiable views of 
human life and human nature ; the unforced humor, 
blending so happily with good feeling and good sense, 
and singularly dashed at times with a pleasing melan- 
choly ; even the very nature of his mellow, and flowing, 
and soft-tinted style — all seem to bespeak his moral 
as well as his intellectual qualities, and make us love 
the man at the same time that we admire the author. 
While the productions of writers of loftier pretension 
and more sounding names are suffered to moulder on 
shelves, those of Goldsmith are cherished and laid in 
our bosoms. We do not quote them with ostentation, 
but they mingle with our minds, sweeten our tempers, 
and harmonize our thoughts ; they put us in good humor 
with ourselves and with the world, and in so doing they 
make us happier and better men. 

An acquaintance with the private biography of Gold- 
smith lets us into the secret of his gifted pages. We 



348 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

there discover them to be little more than transcripts of 
his own heart and picturings of his fortunes. There he 
shows himself the same kind, artless, good-humored, ex- 
cursive, sensible, whimsical, intelligent being that he 
appears in his writings. Scarcely an adventure or char- 
acter is given in his works that may not be traced to his 
own parti-colored story. Many of his most ludicrous 
scenes and ridiculous incidents have been drawn from 
his own blunders and mischances, and he seems really to 
have been buffeted into almost every maxim imparted 
by him for the instruction of his reader. 

Never was the trite, because sage apophthegm, that 
" The child is father to the man," more fully verified 
than in the case of Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, 
and blundering in his childhood, yet full of sensibility ; 
he is a butt for the jeers and jokes of his companions, 
but apt to surprise and confound them by sudden and 
witty repartees ; he is dull and stupid at his tasks, yet 
an eager and intelligent devourer of the travelling tales 
and campaigning stories of his half -military pedagogue ; 
he may be a dunce, but he is already a rhymer ; and his 
early scintillations of poetry awaken the expectations of 
his friends. He seems from infancy to have been com- 
pounded of two natures, one bright, the other blunder- 
ing ; or to have had fairy gifts laid in his cradle by the 
" good people " who haunted his birthplace, the old gob- 
lin mansion on the banks of the Inny. 

He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we 
may so term it, throughout his career. His fairy gifts 
are of no avail at school, academy, or college : they unfit 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 349 

him for close study and practical science, and render 
him heedless of everything that does not address itself 
to his poetical imagination, and genial and festive feel- 
ings ; they dispose him to break away from restraint, to 
stroll about hedges, green lanes, and haunted streams, 
to revel with jovial companions, or to rove the country 
like a gypsy in quest of odd adventures. 

As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no 
heed of the present nor care for the future, lays no regu- 
lar and solid foundation of knowledge, follows out no 
plan, adopts and discards those recommended by his 
friends, at one time prepares for the ministry, next turns 
to the law, and then fixes upon medicine. He repairs to 
Edinburgh, the great emporium of medical science, but 
the fairy gifts accompany him ; he idles and frolics away 
his time there, imbibing only such knowledge as is 
agreeable to him ; makes an excursion to the poetical 
regions of the Highlands ; and having walked the hos- 
pitals for the customary time, sets off to ramble over the 
Continent, in quest of novelty rather than knowledge. 
His whole tour is a poetical one. He fancies he is play- 
ing the philosopher, while he is really playing the poet ; 
and though professedly he attends lectures, and visits 
foreign universities, so deficient is he on his return, in 
the studies for which he set out, that he fails in an ex- 
amination as a surgeon's mate ; and while figuring as a 
doctor of medicine, is outvied on a point of practice by 
his apothecary. Baffled in every regular pursuit, after 
trying in vain some of the humbler callings of common- 
place life, he is driven almost by chance to the exercise 



350 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

of his pen, and here the fairy gifts come to his assist- 
ance. For a long time, however, he seems unaware of 
the magic properties of that pen : he uses it only as a 
makeshift until he can find a legitimate means of sup- 
port. He is not a learned man, and can write but 
meagrely and at second-hand on learned subjects ; but 
he has a quick convertible talent that seizes lightly on 
the points of knowledge necessary to the illustration of 
a theme : his writings for a time are desultory, the fruits 
of what he has seen and felt, or what he has recently 
and hastily read; but his gifted pen transmutes every- 
thing into gold, and his own genial nature reflects its 
sunshine through his pages. 

Still unaware of his powers, he throws off his writings 
anonymously, to go with the writings of less favored 
men ; and it is a long time, and after a bitter struggle 
with poverty and humiliation, before he acquires confi- 
dence in his literary talent as a means of support, and 
begins to dream of reputation. 

From this time his pen is a wand of power in his 
hand, and he has only to use it discreetly, to make it 
competent to all his wants. But discretion is not a part 
of Goldsmith's nature ; and it seems the property of 
these fairy gifts to be accompanied by moods and tem- 
peraments to render their effect precarious. The heed- 
lessness of his early days, his disposition for social 
enjoyment, his habit of throwing the present on the 
neck of the future, still continue. His expenses forerun 
his means; he incurs debts on the faith of what his 
magic pen is to produce, and then, under the pressure of 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 851 

his debts, sacrifices its productions for prices far below 
their value. It is a redeeming circumstance in his prodi- 
gality that it is lavished oftener upon others than upon 
himself ; he gives without thought or stint, and is the 
continual dupe of his benevolence and his trustfulness 
in human nature. We may say of him as he says of 
one of his heroes, "He could not stifle the natural im- 
pulse which he had to do good, but frequently borrowed 
money to relieve the distressed ; and when he knew not 
conveniently where to borrow, he has been observed to 
shed tears as he passed through the wretched suppliants 
who attended his gate. . . . 

" His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no 
previous reasons to place confidence in, seems to be one 
of those lights of his character which, while they im- 
peach his understanding, do honor to his benevolence. 
The low and the timid are ever suspicious ; but a heart 
impressed with honorable sentiments expects from others 
sympathetic sincerity." 1 

His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had ren- 
dered his life a struggle with poverty even in the days 
of his obscurity, rendered the struggle still more intense 
when his fairy gifts had elevated him into the society of 
the wealthy and luxurious, and imposed on his simple 
and generous spirit fancied obligations to a more ample 
and bounteous display. 

" How comes it," says a recent and ingenious critic, 
" that in all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no 
speck ever sullied the robe of his modest and graceful 
1 Goldsmith's Life of Nash. 



352 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Muse ? How, amidst all the love of inferior company, 
which never to the last forsook him, did he keep his 
genius so free from every touch of vulgarity ? " 

We answer that it was owing to the innate purity and 
goodness of his nature ; there was nothing in it that 
assimilated to vice and vulgarity. Though his circum- 
stances often compelled him to associate with the poor, 
they never could betray him into companionship with 
the depraved. His relish for humor and for the study 
of character, as we have before observed, brought him 
often into convivial company of a vulgar kind ; but he 
discriminated between their vulgarity and their amusing 
qualities, or, rather, wrought from the whole those 
familiar pictures of life which form the staple of his 
most popular writings. 

Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be 
ascribed to the lessons of his infancy, under the paternal 
roof; to the gentle, benevolent, elevated, unworldly 
maxims of his father, who, " passing rich with forty 
pounds a year," infused a spirit into his child which 
riches could not deprave, nor poverty degrade. Much of 
his boyhood, too, had been passed in the household 
of his uncle, the amiable and generous Contarine, where 
he talked of literature with the good pastor, and 
practised music with his daughter, and delighted them 
both by his juvenile attempts at poetry. These early 
associations breathed a grace and refinement into his 
mind and tuned it up, after the rough sports on the 
green, or the frolics at the tavern. These led him to 
turn from the roaring glees of the club to listen to the 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 853 

harp of his cousin Jane ; and from the rustic triumph of 
" throwing sledge " to a stroll with his flute along the 
pastoral banks of the Inny. 

The gentle spirit of his father walked with him through 
life, a pure and virtuous monitor ; and in all the vicissi- 
tudes of his career we find him ever more chastened in 
mind by the sweet and holy recollections of the home of 
his infancy. 

It has been questioned whether he really had any 
religious feeling. Those who raise the question have 
never considered well his writings ; his " Vicar of Wake- 
field," and his pictures of the Village Pastor, present 
religion under its most endearing forms, and with a feel- 
ing that could only flow from the deep convictions of the 
heart. When his fair travelling companions at Paris 
urged him to read the Church Service on a Sunday, he 
replied that " he was not worthy to do it." He had seen 
in early life the sacred offices performed by his father and 
his brother with a solemnity which had sanctified them 
in his memory ; how could he presume to undertake 
such functions ? His religion has been called in question 
by Johnson and by Boswell ; he certainly had not the 
gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the one, nor the bab- 
bling mouth piety of the other ; but the spirit of Chris- 
tian charity, breathed forth in his writings and illustrated 
in his conduct, give us reason to believe he had the in- 
dwelling religion of the soul. 

We have made sufficient comments in the preceding 
chapters on his conduct in elevated circles of literature 
and fashion. The fairy gifts which took him there were 



354 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

not accompanied by the gifts and graces necessary to 
sustain him in that artificial sphere. He can neither 
play the learned sage with Johnson, nor the fine gentle- 
man with Beauclerc ; though he has a mind replete 
with wisdom and natural shrewdness, and a spirit free 
from vulgarity. The blunders of a fertile but hurried 
intellect, and the awkward display of the student assum- 
ing the man of fashion, fix on him a character for 
absurdity and vanity which, like the charge of lunacy, it 
is hard to disprove, however weak the grounds of the 
charge and strong the facts in opposition to it. 

In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned 
and fashionable circles, which talk and live for display. 
It is not the kind of society he craves. His heart yearns 
for domestic life ; it craves familiar, confiding inter- 
course, family firesides, the guileless and happy company 
of children ; these bring out the heartiest and sweetest 
sympathies of his nature. 

" Had it been his fate," says the critic we have already 
quoted, "to meet a woman who could have loved him, 
despite his faults, and respected him despite his foibles, 
we cannot but think that his life and his genius would 
have been much more harmonious ; his desultory affec- 
tions would have been concentred, his craving self-love 
appeased, his pursuits more settled, his character more 
solid. A nature like Goldsmith's, so affectionate, so con- 
fiding, so susceptible to simple, innocent enjoyments, 
so dependent on others for the sunshine of existence, 
does not flower if deprived of the atmosphere of home." 

The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 355 

we think, throughout his career ; and if we have dwelt 
with more significancy than others upon his intercourse 
with the beautiful Horneck family, it is because we fan- 
cied we could detect, amid his playful attentions to one 
of its members, a lurking sentiment of tenderness, kept 
down by conscious poverty and a humiliating idea of 
personal defects. A hopeless feeling of this kind — the 
last a man would communicate to his friends — might 
account for much of that fltfulness of conduct, and that 
gathering melancholy, remarked, but not comprehended 
by his associates, during the last year or two of his life ; 
and may have been one of the troubles of the mind which 
aggravated his last illness, and only terminated with his 
death. 

We shall conclude these desultory remarks with a few 
which have been used by us on a former occasion. From 
the general tone of Goldsmith's biography, it is evident 
that his faults at the worst were but negative, while his 
merits were great and decided. He was no one's enemy 
but his own; his errors, in the main, inflicted evil on 
none but himself, and were so blended with humorous 
and even affecting circumstances, as to disarm anger and 
conciliate kindness. Where eminent talent is united to 
spotless virtue, we are awed and dazzled into admiration, 
but our admiration is apt to be cold and reverential; 
while there is something in the harmless infirmities of a 
good and great, but erring individual, that pleads touch- 
ingly to our nature ; and we turn more kindly towards 
the object of our idolatry, when we find that, like our. 
selves, he is mortal and is frail. The epithet so often 



356 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

heard, and in snch kindly tones, of "poor Goldsmith," 
speaks volumes. Few, who consider the real compound 
of admirable and whimsical qualities which form his 
character, would wish to prune away his eccentricities, 
trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to the 
decent formalities of rigid virtue. " Let not his frailties 
be remembered," said Johnson ; " he was a very great 
man." But, for our part, we rather say, " Let them be 
remembered," since their tendency is to endear ; and we 
question whether he himself would not feel gratified in 
hearing his reader, after dwelling with admiration on 
the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with the 
kindhearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, 
of " Poor Goldsmith." 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 357 

NOTE. 

Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a sub- 
scription, and raised a fund to erect a monument to his memory, 
in "Westminster Abbey. It was executed by Nollekens, and consisted 
simply of a bust of the poet in profile, in high relief, in a medallion, 
and was placed in the area of a pointed arch over the south door in 
Poets' Corner, between the monuments of Gay and the Duke of 
Argyle. Johnson furnished a Latin epitaph, of which the following 
is a translation from Croker's edition of Boswell's " Johnson : " — 

" OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH — 

A POET, NATURALIST, AND HISTORIAN, 

WHO LEFT SCARCELY ANY STYLE OF WRITING 

UNTOUCHED, 

AND TOUCHED NOTHING THAT HE DID NOT ADORN; 

OF ALL THE PASSIONS, 

WHETHER SMILES WERE TO BE MOVED 

OR TEARS, 

A POWERFUL YET GENTLE MASTER; 

IN GENIUS, SUBLIME, VIVID, VERSATILE, 

IN STYLE, ELEVATED, CLEAR, ELEGANT — 

THE LOVE OF COMPANIONS, 

THE FIDELITY OF FRIENDS, 

AND THE VENERATION OF READERS, 

HAVE BY THIS MONUMENT HONORED THE MEMORY. 

HE WAS BORN IN IRELAND, 

AT A PLACE CALLED PALLAS, 

[IN THE PARISH] OF FORNEY, [AND COUNTY] OF LONGFORD, 

*ON THE 29TH NOV., 1731. 

EDUCATED AT [THE UNIVERSITY OF] DUBLIN, 

AND DIED IN LONDON, 

4TH APRIL, 1774." 

* The true date of birth was 10th Nov., 1728. 



358 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 

General Howe was taking his ease in winter quarters 
at New York, waiting for the freezing of the Delaware 
to pursue his triumphant march to Philadelphia, when 
tidings were brought him of the surprise and capture of 
the Hessians at Trenton. " That three old established 
regiments of a people who made war their profession, 
should lay down their arms to a ragged and undisciplined 
militia, and that with scarcely any loss on either side," 
was a matter of amazement. He instantly stopped Lord 
Cornwallis, who was on the point of embarking for 
England, and sent him back in all haste to resume the 
command in the Jerseys. 

The ice in the Delaware impeded the crossing of the 
American troops, and gave the British time to draw in 
their scattered cantonments and assemble their whole 
force at Princeton. While his troops were yet crossing, 
Washington sent out Colonel Reed to reconnoitre the 
position and movements of the enemy and obtain infor- 
mation. Six of the Philadelphia light horse, spirited 
young fellows, but who had never seen service, volun- 
teered to accompany Reed. They patrolled the country 
to the very vicinity of Princeton, but could collect no 
information from the inhabitants, who were harassed, 
terrified, and bewildered by the ravaging marches to and 
fro of friend and enemy. 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 359 

Emerging from a wood almost within view of Prince- 
ton, they caught sight, from a rising ground, of two or 
three red-coats passing from time to time from a barn 
to a dwelling-house. Here must be an outpost. Keep- 
ing the barn in a line with the house so as to cover their 
approach, they dashed up to the latter without being 
discovered, and surrounded it. Twelve British dragoons 
were within, who, though well armed, were so panic- 
stricken that they surrendered without making defence. 
A commissary, also, was taken ; the sergeant of the 
dragoons alone escaped. Colonel Eeed and his six cava- 
liers returned in triumph to headquarters. Important 
information was obtained from their prisoners. Lord 
Cornwallis had joined General Grant the day before at 
Princeton, with a reinforcement of chosen troops. They 
had now seven or eight thousand men, and were pressing 
wagons for a march upon Trenton. 

Cadwalader, stationed at Crosswicks, about seven miles 
distant, between Bordentown and Trenton, sent intelli- 
gence to the same purport, received by him from a young 
gentleman who had escaped from Princeton. 

Word, too, was brought from other quarters, that 
General Howe was on the march with a thousand light 
troops with which he had landed at Amboy. 

The situation of Washington was growing critical. 
The enemy were beginning to advance their large pickets 
towards Trenton. Everything indicated an approaching 
attack. The force with him was small ; to retreat across 
the river would destroy the dawn of hope awakened in 
the bosoms of the Jersey militia by the late exploit ; but 



360 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

to make a stand without reinforcements was impossible. 
In this emergency, he called to his aid General Cadwala- 
der from Crosswicks, and General Mifflin from Borden- 
town, with their collective forces, amounting to about 
three thousand six hundred men. He did it with reluc- 
tance, for it seemed like involving them in the common 
danger ; but the exigency of the case admitted of no 
alternative. They promptly answered to his call, and 
marching in the night, joined him on the 1st of Jan- 
uary. 

Washington chose a position for his main body on the 
the east side of the Assunpink. There was a narrow 
stone bridge across it, where the water was very deep — 
the same bridge over which part of Rahl's brigade had 
escaped in the recent affair. He planted his artillery 
so as to command the bridge and the forts. His advance 
guard was stationed about three miles off in a wood, 
having in front a stream called Shabbakong Creek. 

Early on the morning of the second, came certain 
word that Cornwallis was approaching with all his force. 
Strong parties were sent out under General Greene, who 
skirmished with the enemy and harassed them in their 
advance. By twelve o'clock they reached the Shabba- 
kong, and halted for a time on its northern bank. Then 
crossing it, and moving forward with rapidity, they 
drove the advance guard out of the woods, and pushed 
on until they reached a high ground near the town. 
Here Hand's corps of several battalions was drawn up, 
and held them for a time in check. All the parties in 
advance ultimately retreated to the main body, on the 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 361 

east side of the Assunpink, and found some difficulty in 
crowding across the narrow bridge. 

From all these checks and delays, it was nearly sunset 
before Cornwallis with the head of his army entered 
Trenton. His rear-guard under General Leslie rested at 
Maiden Head, about six miles distant, and nearly half 
way between Trenton and Princeton. Forming his troops 
into columns, he now made repeated attempts to cross 
the Assunpink at the bridge and the fords, but was as 
often repulsed by the artillery. For a part of the time 
Washington, mounted on a white horse, stationed himself 
at the south end of the bridge, issuing his orders. Each 
time the enemy was repulsed there was a shout along the 
American lines. At length they drew off, came to a halt, 
and lighted their campfires. The Americans did the 
same, using the neighboring fences for the purpose. Sir 
William Erskine, who was with Cornwallis, urged him, 
it is said, to attack Washington that evening in his 
camp ; but his lordship declined ; he felt sure of the 
game which had so often escaped him ; he had at length, 
he thought, got Washington into a situation from which 
he could not escape, but where he might make a desper- 
ate stand, and he was willing to give his wearied troops 
a night's repose to prepare them for the closing struggle. 
He would be sure, he said, to " bag the fox in the 
morning." 

A cannonade was kept up on both sides until dark ; 
but with little damage to the Americans. When night 
closed in, the two camps lay in sight of each other's 
fires, ruminating the bloody action of the following day. 



362 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

It was the most gloomy and anxious night that had yet 
closed in on the American army, throughout its series of 
perils and disasters ; for there was no concealing the im- 
pending danger. But what must have been the feelings 
of the commander-in-chief, as he anxiously patrolled his 
camp, and considered the desperate position ? A small 
stream, fordable in several places, was all that separated 
his raw, inexperienced army from an enemy vastly supe- 
rior in numbers and discipline, and stung to action by 
the mortification of a late defeat. A general action with 
them must be ruinous ; but how was he to retreat ? 
Behind him was the Delaware, impassable from floating 
ice. Granting even (a thing not to be hoped) that a 
retreat across it could be effected, the consequences 
would be equally fatal. The Jerseys would be left in 
possession of the enemy, endangering the immediate 
capture of Philadelphia, and sinking the public mind 
into despondency. 

In this darkest of moments a gleam of hope flashed 
upon his mind ; a bold expedient suggested itself. 
Almost the whole of the enemy's force must by this 
time be drawn out of Princeton, and advancing by de- 
tachments toward Trenton, while their baggage and prin- 
cipal stores must remain weakly guarded at Brunswick. 
Was it not possible by a rapid night-march along the 
Quaker road, a different road from that on which Gen- 
eral Leslie with the rear-guard was resting, to get past 
that force undiscovered, come by surprise upon those left 
at Princeton, capture or destroy what stores were left 
there, and then push on to Brunswick ? This would 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 368 

save the army from being cut off ; would avoid the 
appearance of a defeat ; and might draw the enemy away 
from Trenton, while some fortunate stroke might give 
additional reputation to the American arms. Even 
should the enemy march on to Philadelphia, it could 
not in any case be prevented ; while a counter-blow in 
the Jerseys would be a great consolation. 

Such was the plan which Washington revolved in his 
mind on the gloomy banks of the Assunpink, and which 
he laid before his officers in a council of war, held after 
nightfall, at the quarters of General Mercer. It met 
with instant concurrence, being of that hardy, adventu- 
rous kind, which seems congenial with the American 
character. One formidable difficulty presented itself. 
The weather was unusually mild ; there was a thaw, by 
which the roads might be rendered deep and miry, and 
almost impassable. Fortunately, or rather providentially, 
as Washington was prone to consider it, the wind veered 
to the north in the course of the evening ; the weather 
became intensely cold, and in two hours the roads were 
once more hard and frost-bound. In the meantime, the 
baggage of the army was silently removed to Burlington, 
and every other preparation was made for a rapid march. 
To deceive the enemy, men were employed to dig trenches 
near the bridge, within hearing of the British sentries, 
with orders to continue noisily at work until daybreak ; 
others were to go the rounds ; relieve guards at the bridge 
and fords ; keep up the campfires, and maintain all the 
appearance of a regular encampment. At daybreak they 
were to hasten after the army, 



864 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

In the dead of the night, the army drew quietly out of 
the encampment and began its march. General Mercer, 
mounted on a favorite gray horse, was in the advance, 
with the remnant of his flying camp, now but about 
three hundred and fifty men, principally relics of the 
brave Delaware and Maryland regiments, with some of 
the Pennsylvania militia. Among the latter were youths 
belonging to the best families in Philadelphia. The 
main body followed, under Washington's immediate com- 
mand. 

The Quaker road was a complete roundabout, joining 
the main road about two miles from Princeton, where 
Washington expected to arrive before daybreak. The 
road, however, was new and rugged; cut through woods, 
where the stumps of trees broke the wheels of some of 
the baggage trains, and retarded the march of the troops ; 
so that it was near sunrise of a bright, frosty morning, 
when Washington reached the bridge over Stony Brook, 
about three miles from Princeton. After crossing the 
bridge, he led his troops along the bank of the brook to 
the edge of a wood, where a by-road led off on the right 
through low grounds, and was said by the guides to be a 
short cut to Princeton, and less exposed to view. By 
this road Washington defiled with the main body, order- 
ing Mercer to continue along the brook with his brigade, 
until he should arrive at the main road, where he was to 
secure, and if possible destroy, a bridge over which it 
passes ; so as to intercept any fugitives from Princeton, 
and check any retrograde movements of the British 
troops which might have advanced towards Trenton. 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 865 

Hitherto the movements of the Americans had been 
undiscovered by the enemy. Three regiments of the 
latter, the 17th, 40th, and 55th, with three troops of 
dragoons, had been quartered all night in Princeton, 
under marching orders to join Lord Cornwallis in the 
morning. The 17th regiment under Colonel Mawhood 
was already on the march ; the 55th regiment was pre- 
paring to follow. Mawhood had crossed the bridge by 
which the old or main road to Trenton passes over Stony 
Brook, and was proceeding through a wood beyond, 
when, as he attained the summit of a hill about sunrise, 
the glittering of arms betrayed to him the movement of 
Mercer's troops to the left, who were riling along the 
Quaker road to secure the bridge, as they had been 
ordered. 

The woods prevented him from seeing their number. 
He supposed them to be some broken portion of the 
American army flying before Lord Cornwallis. With 
this idea, he faced about and made a retrograde move- 
ment, to intercept them or hold them in check; while 
messengers spurred off at all speed, to hasten forward 
the regiments still lingering at Princeton, so as com- 
pletely to surround them. 

The woods concealed him until he had recrossed the 
bridge of Stony Brook, when he came in full sight of the 
van of Mercer's brigade. Both parties pushed to get 
possession of a rising ground on the right near the house 
of a Mr. Clark, of the peaceful Society of Friends. The 
Americans being nearest, reached it first, and formed 
behind a hedge fence which extended along a slope in 



866 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

front of the house; whence, being chiefly armed with 
rifles, they opened a destructive fire. It was returned 
with great spirit by the enemy. At the first discharge 
Mercer was dismounted, " his gallant gray " being 
crippled by a musket ball in the leg. One of his 
colonels, also/was mortally wounded and carried to the 
rear. Availing themselves of the confusion thus occa- 
sioned, the British charged with the bayonet; the Ameri- 
can riflemen, having no weapon of the kind, were thrown 
into disorder and retreated. Mercer, who was on foot, 
endeavored to rally them, when a blow from the butt 
end of a musket felled him to the ground. He rose and 
defended himself with his sword, but was surrounded, 
bayoneted repeatedly, and left for dead. 

Mawhood pursued the broken and retreating troops to 
the brow of the rising ground, on which Clark's house 
was situated, when he beheld a large force emerging 
from a wood and advancing to the rescue. It was a 
body of Pennsylvania militia, which Washington, on 
hearing the firing, had detached to the support of 
Mercer. Mawhood instantly ceased pursuit, drew up 
his artillery, and by a heavy discharge brought the 
militia to a stand. 

At this moment Washington himself arrived at the 
scene of action, having galloped from the by-road in 
advance of his troops. From a rising ground he beheld 
Mercer's troops retreating in confusion, and the detach- 
ment of militia checked by Mawhood's artillery. Every- 
thing was at peril. Putting spurs to his horse, he 
dashed past the hesitating militia, waving his hat and 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 367 

cheering them on. His commanding figure and white 
horse made him a conspicuous object for the enemy's 
marksmen, but he heeded it not. Galloping forward 
under the fire of Mawhood's battery, he called upon 
Mercer's broken brigade. The Pennsylvanians rallied at 
the sound of his voice, and caught fire from his example. 
At the same time the 7th Virginia regiment emerged 
from the wood, and moved forward with loud cheers, 
while a fire of grapeshot was opened by Captain Moulder 
of the American artillery, from the brow of a ridge to 
the south. 

Colonel Mawhood, who a moment before had thought 
his triumph secure, found himself assailed on every side, 
and separated from the other British regiments. He 
fought, however, with great bravery, and for a short 
time the action was desperate. Washington was in the 
midst of it ; equally endangered by the random fire of 
his own men, and the artillery and musketry of the 
enemy. His aide-de-camp, Colonel Fitzgerald, a young 
and ardent Irishman, losing sight of him in the heat of 
the fight when enveloped in dust and smoke, dropped 
the bridle on the neck of his horse and drew his hat over 
his eyes, giving him up for lost. When he saw him, 
however, emerge from the cloud, waving his hat, and 
beheld the enemy giving way, he spurred up to his side. 
"Thank God," said he, "your Excellency is safe!" 
" Away, my dear colonel, and bring up the troops," was 
the reply ; " the day is our own ! " It was one of those 
occasions in which the latent fire of Washington's char- 
acter blazed forth. 



368 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Mawhood, by this time, had forced his way, at the 
point of the bayonet, through gathering foes, though 
with heavy loss, back to the main road, and was in full 
retreat towards Trenton to join Cornwallis. Washing- 
ton detached Major Kelly with a party of Pennsylvania 
troops, to destroy the bridge at Stony Brook, over which 
Mawhood had retreated, so as to impede the advance of 
General Leslie from Maiden Head. 

In the meantime the 55th regiment, which had been 
on the left and nearer Princeton, had been encountered 
by the American advance guard under General St. Clair, 
and after some sharp fighting in a ravine, had given way, 
and was retreating across fields and along a by-road to 
Brunswick. The remaining regiment, the 40th, had not 
been able to come up in time for the action ; a part of it 
fled toward Brunswick ; the residue took refuge in the 
college at Princeton, recently occupied by them as bar- 
racks. Artillery was now brought to bear on the college, 
and a few shot compelled those within to surrender. 

In this brief but brilliant action, about one hundred 
of the British were left dead on the field, and nearly 
three hundred taken prisoners, fourteen of whom were 
officers. Among the slain was Captain Leslie, son of the 
Earl of Leven. His death was greatly lamented by his 
captured companions. 

The loss of the Americans was about twenty-five or 
thirty men and several officers. Among the latter was 
Colonel Haslet, who had distinguished himself through- 
out the campaign, by being among the foremost in ser- 
vices of danger. He was indeed a gallant officer, and 
gallantly seconded by his Delaware troops. 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 369 

A greater loss was that of General Mercer. He was 
said to be either dead or dying, in the house of Mr. 
Clark, whither he had been conveyed by his aide-de- 
camp, Major Armstrong, who found him, after the re- 
treat of Mawhood's troops, lying on the field gashed with 
several wounds, and insensible from cold and loss of 
blood. Washington would have ridden back from Prince- 
ton to visit him, and have him conveyed to a place of 
greater security, but was assured that, if alive, he was 
too desperately wounded to bear removal ; in the mean- 
time he was in good hands ; being faithfully attended to 
by his aide-de-camp, Major Armstrong, and treated with 
the utmost care and kindness by Mr. Clark's family. 

Under these circumstances Washington felt compelled 
to leave his old companion in arms to his fate. Indeed, 
he was called away by the exigencies of his command, 
having to pursue the routed regiments which were mak- 
ing a headlong retreat to Brunswick. In this pursuit he 
took the lead at the head of a detachment of cavalry. 
At Kingston, however, three miles to the north-east of 
Princeton, he pulled up, restrained his ardor, and held a 
council of war on horseback. Should he keep on to 
Brunswick or not ? The capture of the British stores 
and baggage would make his triumph complete; but, on 
the other hand, his troops were excessively fatigued by 
their rapid march all night and hard fight in the morn- 
ing. All of them had been one night without sleep, and 
some of them two, and many were half-starved. They 
were without blankets, thinly clad, some of them bare- 
footed, and this in freezing weather. Cornwallis would 



370 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

be upon them before they could reach Brunswick. His 
rear-guard, under General Leslie, had been quartered but 
six miles from Princeton, and the retreating troops must 
have roused them. Under these considerations, it was 
determined to discontinue the pursuit and push for 
Morristown. There they would be in a mountainous 
country, heavily wooded, in an abundant neighborhood, 
and on the flank of the enemy, with various defiles by 
which they might change their position according to 
his movements. 

Piling off to the left, therefore, from Kingston, and 
breaking down the bridges behind him, Washington took 
the narrow road by Eocky Hill to Pluckamin. His 
troops were so exhausted, that many in the course of the 
march would lie down in the woods on the frozen ground 
and fall asleep, and were with difficulty roused and 
cheered forward. At Pluckamin he halted for a time, 
to allow them a little repose and refreshment. While 
they are taking breath we will cast our eyes back to the 
camp of Cornwallis, to see what was the effect upon him 
of this masterly movement of Washington. His lord- 
ship had retired to rest at Trenton with the sportsman's 
vaunt that he would "bag the fox in the morning." 
Nothing could surpass his surprise and chagrin when at 
daybreak the expiring watchnres and deserted camp of 
the Americans told him that the prize had once more 
evaded his grasp ; that the general whose military skill 
he had decried had outgeneralled him. 

For a time he could not learn whither the army, whicti 
had stolen away so silently, had directed its stealthy 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON 371 

march. By sunrise, however, there was the booming of 
cannon, like the rumbling of distant thunder, in the 
direction of Princeton. The idea flashed upon him that 
Washington had not merely escaped, but was about to 
make a dash at the British magazines at Brunswick. 
Alarmed for the safety of his military stores, his lord- 
ship forthwith broke up his camp, and made a rapid 
march towards Princeton. As he arrived in sight of the 
bridge over Stony Brook, he beheld Major Kelly and his 
party busy in its destruction. A distant discharge of 
round shot from his field-pieces drove them away, but 
the bridge was already broken. It would take time to 
repair it for the passage of the artillery ; so Cornwallis, 
in his impatience, urged his troops breast-high through 
the turbulent and icy stream, and again pushed forward. 
He was brought to a stand by the discharge of a thirty- 
two pounder from a distant breastwork. Supposing the 
Americans to be there in force, and prepared to make 
resistance, he sent out some horsemen to reconnoitre, and 
advanced to storm the battery. There was no one there. 
The thirty-two pounder had been left behind by the 
Americans as too unwieldy, and a match had been ap- 
plied to it by some lingerer of Washington's rear guard. 
Without further delay Cornwallis hurried forward, 
eager to save his magazines. Crossing the bridge at 
Kingston, he kept on along the Brunswick road, suppos- 
ing Washington still before him. The latter had got far 
in the advance, during the delays caused by the broken 
bridge at Stony Brook, and the discharge of the thirty- 
two pounder ; and the alteration of his course at Kings- 



372 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

ton had carried him completely out of the way of 
Cornwallis. His lordship reached Brunswick towards 
evening, and endeavored to console himself, by the 
safety of the military stores, for being so completely 
foiled and out-manoeuvred. 

Washington, in the meantime, was all on the alert; 
the lion part of his nature was aroused ; and while his 
weary troops were in a manner panting upon the ground 
around him, he was despatching missives and calling out 
aid to enable him to follow up his successes. In a letter 
to Putnam, written from Pluckamin during the halt, he 
says, "The enemy appear to be panic-struck. I am in 
hopes of driving them out of the Jerseys. March the 
troops under your command to Crosswicks, and keep a 
strict watch upon the enemy in this quarter. Keep as 
many spies out as you think proper. A m number of 
horsemen in the dress of the country must be kept con- 
stantly going backwards and forwards for this purpose. 
If you discover any motion of the enemy of conse- 
quence, let me be informed thereof as soon as possible, 
by express." 

To General Heath, also, who was stationed in the 
Highlands of the Hudson, he wrote at the same hur- 
ried moment. " The enemy are in great consternation ; 
and as the panic affords us a favorable • opportunity to 
drive them out of the Jerseys, it has been determined 
in council that you should move down towards New 
York with a considerable force, as if you had a design 
upon the city. That being an object of great impor- 
tance, the enemy will be reduced to the necessity of 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 373 

withdrawing a considerable part of their force from 
the Jerseys, if not the whole, to secure the city." 

These letters despatched, he continued forward to Mor- 
ristown, where at length he came to a halt from his in- 
cessant and harassing marchings. There he learned that 
General Mercer was still alive. He immediately sent 
his own nephew, Major George Lewis, under the protec- 
tion of a flag, to attend upon him. Mercer had indeed 
been kindly nursed by a daughter of Mr. Clark and a 
negro woman, who had not been frightened from their 
home by the storm of battle which raged around it. At 
the time that the troops of Cornwallis approached, Major 
Armstrong was binding up Mercer's wounds. The latter 
insisted on his leaving him in the kind hands of Mr. 
Clark's household and rejoining the army. Lewis found 
him languishing in great pain ; he had been treated with 
respect by the enemy, and great tenderness by the benev- 
olent family who had sheltered him. He expired in the 
arms of Major Lewis on the 12th of January, in the 
fifty-sixth year of his age. Dr. Benjamin Eush, after- 
wards celebrated as a physician, was with him when he 
died. 

He was upright, intelligent, and brave ; esteemed as 
a soldier and beloved as a man, and by none more so 
than by Washington. His career as a general had been 
brief ; but long enough to secure him a lasting renown. 
His name remains one of the consecrated names of the 
Revolution. 

From Morristown, Washington again wrote to General 
Heath, repeating his former orders. To Major-General 



374 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Lincoln, also, who was just arrived at Peekskill, and had 
command of the Massachusetts militia, he writes on the 
seventh, " General Heath will communicate mine of this 
date to you, by which you will find that the greater part 
of your troops are to move down towards New York, to 
draw the attention of the enemy to that quarter ; and if 
they do not throw a considerable body back again, you 
may, in all probability, carry the city, or at least block- 
ade them in it. . . . Be as expeditious as possible in 
moving forward, for the sooner a panic-struck enemy is 
followed the better. If we can oblige them to evacuate 
the Jerseys, we must drive them to the utmost distress ; 
for they have depended upon the supplies from that 
State for their winter's support." 

Colonel Reed was ordered to send out rangers and 
bodies of militia to scour the country, waylay foraging 
parties, cut off supplies, and keep the cantonments of 
the enemy in a state of siege. " I would not suffer a 
man to stir beyond their lines," writes Washington, " nor 
suffer them to have the least communication with the 
country." 

The expedition under General Heath toward New 
York, from which much had been anticipated by Wash- 
ington, proved a failure. It moved in three divisions, by 
different routes, but all arriving nearly at the same time 
at the enemy's outpost at King's Bridge. There was 
some skirmishing, but the great feature of the expedi- 
tion was a pompous and peremptory summons of Fort 
Independence to surrender. " Twenty minutes only can 
be allowed," said Heath, "for the garrison to give their 



WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 375 

answer, and, should it be in the negative, they must 
abide the consequences." The garrison made no answer 
but an occasional cannonade. Heath failed to follow up 
his summons by corresponding deeds. He hovered and 
skirmished for some days about the outposts and Spyt- 
den Duyvel Creek, and then retired before a threatened 
snowstorm, and the report of an enemy's fleet from 
Ehode Island, with troops under Lord Percy, who might 
land in Westchester and take the besieging force in rear. 

Washington, while he spoke of Heath's failure with 
indulgence in his despatches to government, could not 
but give him a rebuke in a private letter. " Your sum- 
mons," writes he, "as you did not attempt to fulfil 
your threats, was not only idle, but farcical, and will not 
fail of turning the laugh exceedingly upon us. These 
things I mention to you as a friend, for you will perceive 
they have composed no part of my public letter." 

But, though disappointed in this part of his plan, 
Washington, having received reinforcements of militia, 
continued, with his scanty army, to carry on his system 
of annoyance. The situation of Cbrnwallis, who but a 
short time before traversed the Jerseys so triumphantly, 
became daily more and more irksome. Spies were in his 
camp to give notice of every movement, and foes without 
to take advantage of it j so that not a foraging party 
could sally forth without being waylaid. By degrees he 
drew in his troops which were posted about the country, 
and collected them at New Brunswick and Amboy, so as 
to have a communication by water with New York, 
whence he was now compelled to draw nearly all his 



376 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. 

supplies ; " presenting," to use the words of Hamilton, 
" the extraordinary spectacle of a powerful army strait- 
ened within narrow limits by the phantom of a military 
force, and never permitted to transgress those limits 
with impunity." 

In fact, the recent operations in the Jerseys had sud- 
denly changed the whole aspect of the war, and given a 
triumphant close to what had been a disastrous campaign. 

The troops, which for months had been driven from 
post to post, apparently an undisciplined rabble, had all 
at once turned upon their pursuers and astounded them 
by brilliant stratagems and daring exploits. The com- 
mander, whose cautious policy had been sneered at by 
enemies, and regarded with impatience by misjudging 
friends, had all at once shown that he possessed enter- 
prise as well as circumspection, energy as well as endur- 
ance, and that beneath his wary coldness lurked a fire 
to break forth at the proper moment. This year's cam- 
paign, the most critical one of the war, and especially 
the part of it which occurred in the Jerseys, was the 
ordeal that made his great qualities fully appreciated by 
his countrymen, and gained for him from the statesmen 
and generals of Europe the appellation of the American 
Fabius. 



NOTES. 



A great many books are helpful to the study of any good author, 
and some are necessary. In the latter list for Irving are suggested : 

1. A complete edition (revised) of Irving's works. 

2. A good biography — not too long — e.g., "American Men of 
Letters." Washington Irving ("Warner). 

3. A good dictionary of the English language. The Inter- 
national ; The Century if possible. 

4. A good cyclopaedia, the best within reach. 

5. A good dictionary of biography. 

In these notes Irving is made to interpret himself as far as possible ; 
and it is hoped that, by reference to Irving himself, the teacher will 
be, in a manner, compelled to become acquainted with his works. 
If so, one object of this book will have been attained. 

Another object of the book is the study of Irving's style, and upon 
this I will quote only Edward Everett's words : — 

" If any one wishes to study a style which possesses the charac- 
teristic beauties of Addison, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with 
greater accuracy, point, and spirit, let him give his days and nights 
to the volumes of Irving." 



Page 1. The Capture of New Amsterdam by the English. 

Compare the historical account in any good history of the United 
States. 

P. 2. Pompeii, Troy, Paris, etc. It is assumed that all such 
evident historical references are either so well known to teachers, or 
so easily found, that no further attention will be paid to them in these 
notes. 

377 



378 WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Fort of Goed Hoop, Book III., Chapter IX., Knickerbocker's 
History of New York. Similar references are to the same book. 

Wouter Van Twiller, Book III., Chapter I. 

Peter Stuyvesant, Book V., Chapter I. 

P. 3. Amphictyons, Book IV., Chapter XII. 

Look up the term in dictionary and history. 

Antony Van Corlear, Book IV., Chapter IV. 

Calico Mare, piebald or spotted. 

Manhattoes. See Irving's etymology of the term, Book II., 
Chapter VI. 

P. 4. Yankee empire. See Irving's humorous derivation of the 
word " Yankee." Book III., Chapter VII. 

P. 9. Tarpeian Rock. Consult classical dictionary under " Tar- 
peia," and any history of Rome. 

P. 12. Pythagoras. Consult classical dictionary. 

Short Pipes and Long Pipes, Book IV., Chapter VIII. 

P. 13. Windmill system, Book IV., Chapter IV. 

P. 15. Put to the Question, examination by torture. See " Ques- 
tion," No. 8, Century Dictionary. 

P. 21. William the Testy, Book IV., Chapter I. 

P. 22. Rigmarole. Consult your dictionary. 

Bell-the-cat, Archibald, Fifth Earl of Angus, " The Great Earl." 
Consult your history. 

P. 23. Bronx. A river of Westchester Co., N.Y. 

P. 24. Spyt den Duyvel. Spuyten Duyvil. See gazetteer. 

Paladin Orlando. Baldwin's Story of Roland, Adventure 32. 
See Roland in cyclopaedia. 

Roncesvalles. Consult your cyclopaedia. 

P. 25. Moss-bonker. Consult dictionary under moss-bunker. 

P. 26. Schepen. (Skdpen.) A Dutch magistrate corresponding 
nearly to an associate justice of a municipal court, or to an English 
alderman. 

P. 31. Prodigies recorded by Livy. Et per idem tempus 
Romae signum Martis Appia via ac simulacra luporum sudasse. . . . 
Capras lanatas quibusdam factas, et gallinam in marem, gallum in 
feminam sese vertisse. (Livy XXII., 1.) 

P. 32. Capture of Fort Christiana. Book VI., chapter VIII. 

P. 35. As did Pelayo. " Spanish papers." " Legend of Pelayo." 

P. 37. Diedrich Knickerbocker, See " Knickerbocker's His- 



NOTES. 379 

tory of New York," "Account of the Author." Also "The Histo- 
rian," under " Dolph Heyliger," in this volume. For Irving's deriva- 
tion of Knickerbocker, see Book V., Chapter IV. 

P. 38. Waterloo Medal, honor, or Queen Anne's farthing, 
rarity. 

P. 41. Galligaskins. Consult the dictionary. 

P. 55. Antony's Nose. Book VI., Chapter IV. 

P. 63. Christmas. Cf. Introduction to Sixth Canto, "Marmion." 
" Sir Roger in London," " Roger de Coverley Papers." This chapter 
is a good example for the study of Irving's essay style. 

P. 67. Sherris sack. Sherry, in Century Dictionary. 

P. 68. Wassailings. Festivities, carousings. See wassail, Cen- 
tury Dictionary. 

Waits. See wait, 2, Century Dictionary. 

P. 69. "Some say," etc. Hamlet, Act I., Scene I. 

P. 71. Yorkshire. Consult map of England. 

P. 73. Mystery. See mystery, 2, in Century Dictionary. 

Like a cauliflower. Show the propriety of the figure. 

P. 75. Cyclops. Why Cyclops ? 

Twelve days. Consult dictionary. "Twelfth Night," etc. 

P. 76. Square it. See square, 5, Century Dictionary. 

P. 78. Smoke-Jack. See Century Dictionary. 

Deal table. See deal, 2, in Century Dictionary. 

P. 83. Mongrel, puppy, etc. " Elegy on the Death of a Mad 
Dog," Goldsmith. 

The little dogs and all. King Lear, Act III., Scene VI. 

P. 84. Stone-shafted. Explain. 

P. 85. Hoodman blind, etc. It would be interesting to explain 
what these games were. 

P. 88. Beaufet. An erroneous form of buffet, which see. 

P. 90. Jumping with his humor. Explain it. 

P. 92. Rigadoon. Consult the dictionary. 

P. 96. Rejoice! our Saviour he was born. West of England 
carol, " I Saw Three Ships," " Open Sesame," Part II. Ginn & Co. 

P. 98. 'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth. Her- 
rick's " Noble Numbers." " A Thanksgiving to God for His House." 

P. 103. Black-letter. See Century Dictionary. 

P. 110. Poor Robin. See Irving's note under " The Stage 
Coach." 



380 WASHINGTON IRVING. 

P. 122. Roasted Crabs. " "When roasted crabs hiss in the howl." 
" Love's Labor's Lost," Act V., Scene 2. Cf . "Midsummer Night's 
Dream," Act II., Scene 1. 

P. 135. See article " Stratford," in Cyclopaedia Britannica. Also 
article " Shakspeare." 

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn ? " Henry IV.," part 
1, Act III., Scene 3. 

P. 136. The Jubilee. In 1769. 

P. 138. Santa Casa of Loretto. See " Loretto," in American 
Cyclopaedia. 

P. 143. A ludicrous epitaph. 

" Ten in a hundred lies here engraved, 
'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved : 
If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? 
Ho ! ho ! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe." 

P. 145. Justice Shallow. "Merry Wives of "Windsor," and 
" King Henry IV.," part 2. 

P. 157. To a last year's pippin. " Benry IV.," part 2, Act V., 
Scene 3. 

P. 158. By Cock and Pye. See Irving's note, p. 120. 

P. 161. The Stout Gentleman. Read chapters, " The Hall," and 
" Story Telling," " Bracebridge Hall." See "Tales of a Traveller," 
" The Great Unknown." Also the prefatory letter to Scott's " Peveril 
of the Peak." 

P. 162. Benjamin. Consult Century Dictionary. 

P. 165. Hipped. The meaning of the term? 

P. 167. Slammerkin. Slamkin. 

Nincompoop. Non compos. 

Hunt. Very likely Leigh Hunt is meant. 

P. 170. Belcher handkerchiefs. Consult the dictionary. 

P. 172. Cabbaged. The propriety of the term? 

P. 175. Of the old general's relating. See " Bracebridge Hall ; " 
chapters, "An Old Soldier," and " Bachelors." 

P. 177. Hogenmogens. The States-General. But see the word 
in the Century Dictionary. 

P. 180. In chancery. In litigation in a court of equity. 

P. 181. Curmudgeon. See the derivation. 

Crone. Is this the common use of the word ? 



NOTES. 381 

P. 183. Lord Cornbury. Bancroft says of him: "Heir to an 
earldom, he joined the worst form of arrogance to intellectual im- 
becility." " History of United States," Vol. II., Chapter II. 

P. 202. DeviPs Stepping Stones. Knickerbocker's "History of 
New York," Book IV., Chapter VI. Was the place that where the 
" Stepping Stones" lighthouse now is? 

Gibbet Island. See "Guests from Gibbet Island," " Wolf ert's 
Boost." 

Governor Leisler, 1691. Bancroft's " History of United States," 
Vol. II., Chapter II. 

P. 216. Snicker-snee» Consult Century Dictionary. 

P. 269. Columbus. Bead Chapter VII. of " Washington Irving," 
by Charles Dudley Warner. 

P. 271. Martin Alonzo Pinzon. Commander of the Pinta. See 
Book II., Chapter VIII., " Columbus." 

Cipango. Book I., Chapters IV. and V., " Columbus." 

" I claim my reward." The pension promised by the Spanish 
sovereigns. See Book III., Chapter III., " Columbus." 

P. 281. Boabdil. The last of the Moorish kings. For his subse- 
quent history, see appendix to the " Conquest of Granada." 

P. 282. Xenil. (Ha-nee'l.) See the first chapter of " Conquest of 
Granada." 

P. 283. Comixa. See appendix to " Conquest of Granada." 

P. 286. Alpuxarras. Consult Lippincott's Pronouncing Gazetteer. 

P. 289. Cid Hiaya. See Chapters LXX., LXXX., and LXXXI. 
of " Conquest of Granada." 

Fray Antonio Agapida. The fictitious narrator into whose 
mouth Irving puts the story of the " Conquest of Granada." 

P. 293. Roderick. See the " Legend of Don Roderick," " Span- 
ish Papers." 

P. 294. Palace of the Alhambra. This extract is made up from 
Irving's descriptions of various parts of the Palace of the Alhambra, 
and put together so as to form, as nearly as possible, a continuous 
piece. The teacher is recommended to read the various pieces of 
description as they occur in " The Alhambra " itself. 

I recommend to the teacher the reading of the " Conquest of 
Granada," the whole of " The Alhambra," and the " Spanish Papers," 
in connection with the study of this part of the book. I believe it 
will be too interesting to be irksome. 



382 WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Caaba. Consult the dictionary. 

P. 296. During the recent troubles in Spain. To what does 
Irving refer ? 

P. 300. Darro. Consult the gazetteer. 

P. 303. Abencerrages. See chapter " The Ahencerrages," in 
"The Alhambra." 

Mateo Ximenes. The " Son of the Alhambra," Irving's cice- 
rone. Cf. Irving's note in " Surrender of Granada." 

P. 304. Lindaraxa. See the chapter " The Mysterious Cham- 
bers," of " The Alhambra." 

P. 306. Here was performed. See " Surrender of Granada." 

P. 314. The last sigh of the Moor. Cf. the "Surrender of 
Granada." 

P. 316. Tia Antonia. See the chapter " Important Negotiations," 
of " The Alhambra." 

P. 319. Their career of conquest. Some of the "Spanish Pa- 
pers " will be found interesting and suggestive in reference to the 
Moorish conquest. 

P. 324. Cid. Consult cyclopaedia. 

P. 324. Bernardo del Carpio. See American Cyclopaedia, and 
cf. Felicia Hemans's poem of that name. 

P. 324. Fernando del Pulgar. See Chapters LIL, LXXIV. 
and note, LXXXVIII., and XCII., " Conquest of Granada," and 
chapter " Public Fetes of Granada," of " The Alhambra." 

P. 324. Eve of the Blessed St. John. June 23d. 

P. 325. Generalife. See " Alhambra," chapter " The Generalife." 

P. 329. Gate of Justice. See chapter " Palace of the Alhambra. " 

P. 330. Concerning a Gothic Princess. See "Legend of the 
Arabian Astrologer," in "The Alhambra." 

P. 332. The Court of Lions. See chapter "The Court of Lions." 

P. 332. Tower of Comares. See " Panorama from the Tower of 
Comares." 

P. 347. Character of Goldsmith. It seems to me that every 
one will be delighted to read the whole book from which this extract 
is made. Of it Warner, in his biography of Irving, p. 172, says: 
" The 'Goldsmith ' was enlarged from a sketch he had made twenty- 
five years before. It is an exquisite, sympathetic piece of work, with- 
out pretension or any subtle verbal analysis, but on the whole an 
excellent interpretation of the character. Author and subject had 



NOTES. 383 

much in common. Irving had at least a kindly sympathy for the 
vagahondish inclinations of his predecessor, and with his humorous 
and cheerful regard of the world. Perhaps it is significant of a deeper 
unity of character that both, at times, fancied they could please an 
intolerant world by attempting to play the flute." 

P. 358. Washington at Princeton. Irving's " Life of "Wash- 
ington," Vol. II., closing chapter. On the " Life of Washington," read 
pp. 294-297 in " Washington Irving," ("American Men of Letters)." 
The references in this extract, both historical and geographical, are 
so well known as to need no explanation in the way of notes. 

P. 360. In the recent affair. The Battle of Trenton. 



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